Don't foget to pack a smile

A cure for cycling

wandering_jess — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 08:04:00 GMT

London is cycling crazy. Its official. And It's catching. It's not just the barclays bikes that have whipped everyone up into a fervour. It's cycling in general. I am now the proud owner of a ladies, hybrid, wicker basket sit up and beg bike. Bascially like a traditional london pashley, but is less heavier and bit more streamlined. But before you hop on the barclays bikes or hop on your owne bike in london town. Be warned. Its addictive, very addictive.

And if you don't know the cycling code of conduct rules be afraid, very afraid.

Lesson 101 - always overtake on the right, if you ever ever, overtake on the left be prepared for abuse, bell ringing, subsequent overtaking and further abuseand in some cases random waterbottle throwing

Lesson 102 - never wait too close to horses and riders on the road. This might sound simple enough and straightforward but actually it can be deceptive. I was parked two meters behind a horse and rider at lights and it projectile pooped into my lovely wicker bike basket. Not cool, not cool at all.

Lesson 103 - Black cabs hate cyclists. Nearly as much as red bus drivers do. So watch out, its much like dodge em's only without the padding. They will cut you off, they will bully you and they will try to run you off the road. Watch out for bus horns, they are so loud and surprising you could lost balance and topple over.

Lesson 104 - never wear glasses while riding on cold winter mornings. They will fog up and you'll end up running into a parked car and skinning your knee.

Lesson 105 - never ride too close to parked cars. You never know when an old dear will open her door and you'll slam into it and sommersault over the door frame.. not fun and not classy

Lesson 106 - bikes aren't easy to carry up stairs, regardless of how much carbon frame they are claimed to have. So making plans for a day out but need to carry it up a flight of stairs? think again

Lesson 107 - indicate, indicate, indicate. If you can't ride one handed, don't ride. It's mandatory to indicate otherwise cars will assume you are going their way and run you down. You might feel like a stupid lollypop lady gesturing right and left with your arms but it might save your life

Lessons 108 - never start off at lights in 3rd gear. It will only result in more bell ringing and horn blowing

Lesson 109 - Either stop near the front of a vehicle or at the end of a vehicle, never in the middle. They can't see you and while itq might be an opportune time to pick your nose, it isn't fun facing the prospect of being sideswiped by a bendy bus

Lesson 110 - Watch out for pedestrians. They see bikes like they see green lights when red men are walking. They walk everywhere and anywhere. The world is their terrain and just one arm side swipe or elbow, or scuff from a stray foot can send you sprawling.

Lesson 111 - an additional side note - don't ride with your mouth open, leaves and bugs are prone to fly into it.. and wet leaves equal slipperyness.

Just a few of the lessons I've learnt the hard way while cycling into work every day. Now autumn has well and truly set in I'm looking at buying some lycra, yes perhaps even some with the padding, not that I don't have enough padding in the derriere section. Plus I'll then fit in with the serious riders who strut the lyrcra with pride.

afterall at the end of the day, its not about the bike is it?

jess

to read about my flirting adventures mid cycle visit - http://jessannahart.blogspot.com/2010/10/blue-skies-seem-to-have-brought-out.html

Gallery: snow day

wandering_jess — Sun, 17 May 2009 22:50:00 GMT

Gallery: paris new years

wandering_jess — Sun, 17 May 2009 22:12:00 GMT

let it snow, let it snow let it snow....

wandering_jess — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 21:34:00 GMT

Well this week has been an interesting one. On Monday (Feb 2) we actually had a snow day. The weather forecasters had been predicting it since mid last week but everyone refused to believe it. I of course had my snow hat on and was wishing and praying for snow.

On the Sunday night a blizzard started, it started coming down thick and fast and Victoria and I ran outside in our dressing gowns and checked it all out. We couldn’t believe it, it looked like a winter wonderland in our street, but it was late and I was hoping that by morning we would be able to go out to play. I woke up to Victoria banging on my door, “we’re snowed in, we’re snowed in!” she was shouting, I quickly pulled on my thermals, pjs and dressing gown and scooted out. We looked thru the back door and it was magnificent, snow was everywhere and still falling lightly creating a snow dusting on our dressing gowns. I stood on our doorstep and jumped around with Victoria. We ran inside and got dressed in snow gear and ran out again, I stepped into the snow and it went right up to my calf. It was soft and crunchy underfoot, kids were being towed up the street on toboggans and our neighbours were throwing snowballs about and we quickly got caught up in the fight ourselves.. Before long my hands were freezing and I needed to go back inside. I checked the weather and trains, all our trains had been cancelled so there was no chance of work today. I sent work a message, made some porridge and tea.. Then ventured outdoors again..

Between us my flatmates and I built the biggest snow man in the street, stewie the snowman, complete with tie and carrot nose and eyebrows.. We then went exploring, I went down our main street and it was chaos, the grit on the roads hadn’t done anything and cars were slipping and sliding all over the road.. I soon realised my boots had no traction in the snow and that a pair of wellies were necessary. Victoria and I went into town and I bought myself a pair so I could walk without fear of falling or of my toes dropping off from frostbite.

You could literally smell the freshness in the air, it was like the snow drove away all the pollution, fumes and dirtiness and everything was a stark white. It hurt your eyes sometimes. The crisp breeze which carried more snowflakes down to our street was invigorating and before long, running around in the snow left me completely exhausted. I could feel the snowflakes on my eye lashes and face and it felt so clean and fresh. There is nothing like dipping your hand into a freshly laid bunch of snow that is resting on a car or wall and hearing the crunch and fairy like softness of it as u roll it into a snow ball. Of course I made a snow angel and it was damn freezing the whole time but at the same time magical. U could feel the magic in the air, everywhere u looked there were people smiling, saying hello. A truce of friendliness was struck on the snow day and people who normally wouldn’t acknowledge each other stopped and talked to one another. The transport links were down for most of the day as were the buses, London literally came to a standstill and everyone celebrated it.

I ended up wearing my bright red, rose wellies for the rest of the week because the snow stuck around. I walked into work on the Tuesday and was greeted with a winter wonderland along the Thames. The walkways were snow covered, St Paul’s and the Globe were covered and I felt like I was in heaven.

Yes it was bitterly cold, but god it was utterly beautiful and I loved it. The snow crunching underfoot gives u the same sense of satisfaction you get from popping bubble wrap over and over again. It was divine. Slowly though our stewie melted until he was just a pile of slush. Apparently it was the biggest patch of snow London has seen in over 20 years. I felt blessed to be there for it and it still remains as one of my most favourite days in London.

Paris.. schmaris..

wandering_jess — Sat, 17 Jan 2009 21:26:00 GMT

Paris - schmaris

It’s the place where most girl’s fantasies take flight, in fact deep down I always thought I was a Paris girl. Sure I’d heard of people who hadn’t like Paris, but those were the non-romantics, the non-believers in falling in love with a city. I actually had heard that u are either a Paris or a New York person.. Which I found rather interesting, seeing as I adored New York, I thought I’d be one of the lucky ones who would love both…

All in all I had planned to spend 5 days in Paris, quite a long time for a stay in one place, but there was lots to see the Eiffel Tower, Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame, The Louvre, The Musee de Orsay, The Champs Elysees, Catacombs, Latin quarter and the basilica which overlooks all of Paris.. So with that in mind I boarded the Euro star at some ungodly hour in the morning at Kinds Cross St Pancras and my Paris adventure began. As we made our way through Francis towards the city that beats at its core, I noticed the snow drifts all over the place. The French countryside dotted with little French looking homes and villages where painted with snow and I started to feel a smidge of excitement, perhaps it will be snowing in good ole Pari?

We arrive after a quick 2 hour journey and I hop off expecting customs clearance or immigration gates to go through. Nothing, I just walk straight out onto the street and see the cab line. With my massive back pack I decide the best bet is cab, I’m useless at directions the best of time so I get out my diary and start memorising where the hostel Ooops (

Before long we are winding through the streets and I get a glance of what Paris is like, bustling with incredibly chic women strutting through the streets, people of call backgrounds and races looking completely at home in this bewitching capital instead of feeling like a fish our of water like I am. Suddenly the driver erupts into what can only be a very long string of swear words, gesturing towards the driver in front of him. He stops the cab and jumps out and so does the other driver. They scream at each other in a pageantry display of French egotism and pride, they puff their chests our like peacocks and gesture wildly. I start to get anxious when I look at the meter, its going up at least a euro a minute and I start to get worried that this littler interaction will cost me dearly. Just then when I am about to give up all hope and am considering getting out and finding another cab, the yelling match stops and my driver is back in my car. He turns to me and says ‘ I will take some of zee money off for u wee?’ and I nod and say merci.. Least I can say that right.. And then he says ‘ ahhh but perhaps no.. u pay me for zee entertainment wee?’…. ah noo I say and he chuckles away to himself.. We finally get to my hostel without any further I breathe a sigh of relief.. Thank god.. I check in, drop off my bags and decide right, now is the time to explore Paris…. Eiffel tower here I come…

I dress warmly, by warmly I mean four layers.. I look like a Michelin man. Never mind, I am in the most romantic city in the world, romance will find its way through my thermals, jumpers and Michelin man jacket I am determined! So with my winter boots on I trek out, I am greeted by a cascade of stinging rain.. Grumbling to myself I put up my umbrella and begin my trek, first stop food then to Eiffel tower… I slip and slide my way along the street and my toes start to feel damp and I realise my wonderful boots are leaking… dammmit.. The bitter bitter cold, leaves my face feeling dry and tender, my ears hurt, my lips feel dry and cracked and my stomach grumbles. I can’t handle not having food for a long period of time as my family knows well, before I start to get emotional and moody. I had already reached that point, I wandered around the streets til I found a restaurant and went inside, they ignored me, I stood wet, cold and hungry with drowned rat hair (despite the umbrella - just a point, umbrellas are useless in sideways rain which likes to put in an appearance in Paris and London on occasion) and clearly I’m a tourist, so I wait and wait and then go stuff it and decide to sit down and look at the menu, I choose what I want and then waiters just ignore me, they stream past me, serving others and everyone else but me. I start to get teary, then the manager comes over and has a go at me rambling in French and gesturing at the table and I go to get up and leave and then he yells as me some more and gestures for me to sit down.. So I stay put and yet I continue to be ignored.. 5 mins passes and I leave in tears.. Hungry and frustrated I let the ugly thought sneak into my head.. ‘ I think I hate this place’…

Finally I find a patisserie, who smile at me and ask me what I want in English, I could cry with relief, I order a panni and a chocolate croissant and a hot chocolate and sit down… I survey my maps and finally start to feel more human and like I’m functioning properly…After cramming down some food, I make my way to the tower, and it’s a mission, I cant understand the ticketing system I go to the hostel over and over again, trekking back and forth to tell them our stop doesn’t have a ticket machine, turns out there are four exits to our stop and only one of them has a ticketing machine I’m just too silly to realise it…. Its only when I’m on the metro do I start to appreciate how grateful I am that the Trina and Kate are coming later… its not fun being a girl on your own in Paris, I start to feel just a little bit unsafe. Unsavoury men sitting next to me, and looking at me with eyes that scare me, eyes that leave you feeling violated after they’ve scanned you. I get chills just sitting there and breathe a sigh of relief to get off at the Eiffel tower stop.. Walking in to the tower, there is a teaming constant crowd of people despite the rain which seems to have gotten lighter with little bits of frozen rain landing on my jacket sleeves.. The whole city is shrouded in a thick fog, that won’t lift the entire time we are there, its like a cool mist that snakes around every building and obscures any views or panoramas from being too breathtaking. I get to the tower and I start to feel giddy, the magnitude of the infamous nature of the structure strikes me and I am blown away, it really is quite gorgeous.. But the lines to cue up to go up to the top are ridiculous, even on a cloudy, low visible day such as this.. I walk under the tower and walk up to the grassy area to take some pics and notice the ground is slowly getting white. I put down my umbrella and shake it and off comes a sheet of show. I am at the Eiffel tower and its snowing… its snowing… I couldn’t believe it, it was like a fairy tale, I took pictures but it was so light it just looks like pebbles or small hail stones.. I was beside myself and did a little dance. I copped a few weird looks but didn’t care. I went and got a hot chocolate and it warmed me from the inside out. But my toes had started feeling numb and I decided to head back to the hostel to get ready for dinner with Trina.

Trina and I met in the Latin quarter of Paris, right near Notre dame which is one of my favourite parts of the city, it a bit touristy, but least people are friendly and welcoming. We spotted a charming little Parisian restaurant which sold the all important escargot (snails) and frogs legs and we ordered both to try them out. I thought the frogs legs were a bit sinewy, bit too chewy and not that much meat on them and to be perfectly honest not the best value in my book. But the escargot , they were something else. Little parcels of pesto garlicky tasty parcels that where damn delicious. So delicious that on the next night we ordered more and I would have had more I we had stayed longer.. Absolutely delicious and a highlight of my trip.

The next few days saw me visit the louvre, arc de triumph, champes Elysees, Notre dame and catacombs. The louvre was unreal, very very unreal and I thought the Mona Lisa was in actual fact quite overrated. Hundreds of people were crammed in there fighting for a chance to get a good look at the old bird herself and to me she was a bit on the nose. I enjoyed the other pieces of artwork in there, including the Picasso selection, the selection of pre-Raphaelitism and other dreamy pieces of artwork. It was just beautiful inside.

The catacombs would have to be one of the most eeriest experiences to date, while visiting the tombs in Egypt where often daunting and oppressive, walking down to underneath the city of Paris and through a myriad of tunnels which are surrounded by piles and piles of bones and skulls was much more macabre. the air was moist and I could feel grime lining my skin as we walked through the tunnels. The stench of death, or death from long ago was overpowering and I began to feel a little bit claustrophobic and towards the end was rushing to get out of there. The daren’t touch any of the bones in there, apparently people sometimes took bones as souvenirs and I cant imagine anything more disturbing or disrespectful. Afterwards I wanted to take a shower and blow my nose, I could still smell death, bones, dirt and dampness for the rest of that day, haunting me like an unwanted ghoul.

New years eve is often overrated, filled too many expectations often lead to disappointment, which is what I’ve found for nearly every new years eve I’ve had so I didn’t hold my expectations high for new years in Paris. Just a few drinks by the tower with friends watching fireworks would be nice. We went out to dinner first and had our fill of escargot and wine then made our way to the tower with the rest of the tourists and thousands of Parisians. We each had bought little red berets to mark our ‘French’ new year and put them on and posed for pics under the tower. It was as we were walking toward the tour with our berets firmly upon our heads that I realised we were being followed by a group of men. Three men, they didn’t’ look French but clearly spoke French and were watching us. I quietly told the girls and we headed under the tower to merge with the rest of the crowd, they kept following us. We stopped and stood. They stopped and stood. My blood ran cold and I thought mum is going to kill me if I get hurt in Paris, it’s the one place she didn’t feel was safe for me. I’ve been to lots of places which are rumoured to be unsafe, Egypt, Cairo, new York, Naples and even London for one, but never have I felt more afraid for my life than in Paris that night. They looked as us the way a predator would stalk its prey. I caught the eye of one of the men and I felt a chill go through me, he looked at me the way a rapist looks at his victim. I knew their intent and so did the rest of the girls, we weren’t going to be victims tonight. So we kept walking in the crowd and they kept following after an hour and a half of them following us we agreed a plan. We would each take our berets off at the same time, put the hoods up on our jackets and run into the crowd and lose them.. So in perfect synchronisation we did and we lost them.. But it wasn’t long before we saw other packs of men wondering around looking for drunk western/English women to take advantage of. I wanted to wipe dirt on my face to get them not to look at me. Trina and I kept our heads down and avoided all eye contact and we found a position opposite the tour to wait out the fireworks. Our bums went numb, my fingers started to feel icy and my legs were feeling prickly with cold. To say it was cold is an understatement, it was bitter. It was bone achingly cold, I found out later it reached -9 that night. While we were waiting at the tower we saw a lot of girls being loud and drunk and silly, and I felt scared for them. There were a lot of predatory men out there that night and I was never more afraid for not only myself but fellow women out there. When the countdown began a light show began on the tower and we held our breath waiting for the fireworks. Then that was it, it was over. No fireworks this year, sometimes the French government decides not to do fireworks and it just so happens that this year 2008-09 would be one of them that doesn’t start with a bang. The crowd got restless and shitty and started letting off their own fireworks which was dangerous enough.. The ride home was an experience, the French men weren’t standoffish on grabbing and my butt was severely bruised by the end of the night but the people I felt most sorry for were the guys with their girlfriends. The French men specifically targeted the girls with boyfriends, grabbing them, doing inappropriate things to try and wind the men up and I felt so sorry for the girls they looked really unhappy, it was a really ugly side of Paris which I didn’t want to see or experience at all.

The next day to put a spring in our step with went to Paris Disneyland and I have never had so much fun before, I went on the tea cups ride, the space mountain ride, Indiana jones and pirates of the Caribbean ride and also saw all the crew of Disney characters, Donald duck is always my favourite and I picked up a beautiful xmas decoration from there with two big ears for Mickey so I’ll be glad to add that to my xmas tree when I finally go back home. I wasn’t expecting to be so good, I thought the real Disney land would be the only one I want to go to visit, but I had so much fun, it was like being a kid again and made me realise I will love the original one and must go there to visit.

After new years day the girls had half days before having to head back to London, we went to the basilica which overlooks the city, and it was stunningly white and gorgeous and we had a beautiful blue sky to appreciate it. It had snowed in the morning so snow littered the streets and there were some on the wheel at the Moulin rouge which made it look so very picturesque.

As much as I enjoyed the sights and attractions which Paris can lay claim to, it wasn’t a city that warmed the cockles of my heart, in fact it left me cold. The people were rude, I met a French couple who said they hate Parisians and avoid coming into Paris as much as possible as it gives French people a bad name. And I hope that’s true, because my first impressions of the city weren’t favourable. Perhaps the city has a different vibe in summer, but in winter it was cold and left my with a cold head and heart. I’m not sure I’ll go back, even in summer. It just wasn’t a place that captured my imagination, and while I was glad to go and see the sights I did, the next time someone says to me Paris, oh Paris I love Paris (the place not the girl) I’ll be thinking to myself, Paris schmaris..

www.oops-paris.com ) is. I hop into the cab and say to the driver ‘ 50 desss less goblins please?? I mean si vu pleigh.. And it looks at me and then grabs my diary from me and reads the words.. Shakes his head and starts driving.. This isn’t a good start nor a good introduction to Paris. I sigh and think to myself, I really should have learnt more French before I came over.. Oh well. every time I try to think of something French to say, Italian words come to my mouth which doesn’t help at all..

I left my heart in New York City

wandering_jess — Thu, 18 Dec 2008 07:22:00 GMT

Well I am back home seriously jetlagged and sitting in my flatshare in london and the only thing seeming to keep me warm right now, are happy thoughts of my four days in New York.

I guess I wasn't really prepared for what New York is all about but who can be really? afterall its one of the most filmed, celebrated, acclaimed citities in the world. Its the city that never sleeps that have a pulse that beats 24 hours a day with a beat that entrances and endears all visitors to its heart. And its safe to say I fell well and truly under its spell.

Its hard to define exactly what it is about the big apple that makes you reach for it like a junkie despite for their next fix, but it is an overwhelming place. I had initially thought I want to see the sights and take in the culture, but I didn't expect everything else which came with it, the people, the distractions, the magnificient mind blowing buildings, the contrasting colours, shapes and sounds, the stunning array of foods, the gimicks, the different types of people and their love of xmas. it all won me over.

We arrived at Newark airport after an 8 hour flight and I was itching to get started, we opted for a shutter bus and boy were we glad to do that. It only cost $19 and a cab fare is usually $59 plus tolls and etc to and from hotel and the trains only run to central station and we were in no mood to do navigating while jetlagged and in a strange country. So the shuttle slowly meandered its way through a sea of honks and traffic chaos to our hotel. We were the second last ones to be dropped off and I had a splitting headache by the end of it, the driver was on his cell phone the whole time (they do that alot over there) and had carribean christmas music playing (yes such a type does exist) and evertime he tapped hte break an annoying beep would come out from the drivers seat. By the time we had reached manhattan I was ready to pull out my hair. Luckily kate refrained me from doing so by giving me a few dirty looks and telling me to chill out. Deep breaths, I'm in new york, little beeping sounds will not get the better of me!

So upon arriving at the hotel we went inside and picked up our keys. It was certainly below par, the lift was grimy to touch, the paint was peelin, it was a dirty cream colour complemented with dull dark brown panelling that would have looked like a rich mahogany about a decade or two ago and a moist carpet that seems to remain slightly damp no matter how warm our room got. The beds were sunken in the middle so that when you lay down you could feel the slats pressing into the small of your back, persistently reminding you that you are not in your own bed but in fact in a hostel which is masquerading as a hotel. Nevertheless after a quick change we pulled ourselves together to go and grab a quick bite and stave off the encroaching fuzziness of jet lag.

we stepped out into the street to be greeted by a soft drizzle and tried not to let it get us down, of course we are quite used to rain and dreariness after living in london for 7 months you kind of get used to it all. But our hopes were hight for snow and sun in New York. After much debate we found a cute little thai place that had brilliant service, always topping up our water with iced water constantly, which was bliss. and beautiful fresh food. the waiters were kind and friendly and personable and it was a nice relaxing night.

But before long we could barely keep our eyes open, i had dreams of visiting times square that night but we were buggered. So off to bed and of course I woke up bright and bushy tailed promptly at 4am. So did Kate miraculously at the same time so I got up and had a shower to beat the rush, we didnt have a shower in our room and had to share a communal one. So thought it would be best to get in early before the hot water ran out. After a shower I realised I had no hair dryer so it was the drip dry option for me, and i went back to sleep and feel asleep for a couple of hours before we headed off for a fun packed day.

First stop was dunkin donuts for breakfast. I have to say it is not as nearly as unhealthy as its reputation suggests. It has bagels, and bacon and egg bagels and fruit stuff as well as donuts and coffee. I opted for a bacon and egg bagel and a jelly donut I couldn't resist. It tasted better than Krispy Kremes and I was super impressed! It was then onto central park, we started on upper west side and made our way down through the park to 5th Avenue. We took in the crisp beautiful atmosphere of the park which had squirrels dashing from tree to tree, fighting over turf where need be, empty baseball fields and childrens playgrounds, dog walkers walking their labradors, poodles and pugs, they seemed to be the most popular breeds and relentless runners who ran and ran through the bitter cold and often in just shorts and t-shirst in what was -3 weather. Simply freezing to us but rather normal to them. It was a sight to see and certainly a gentle introduction to often the mad crazy pattern of existence that is a way of life in New York. We had standard New Yorkers, just stop mid run and offer help when we were looking at maps, they genuinely welcomed us and wanted to chat to us. It was refreshing and lovely to be treated so nicely and with such friendliness.

Once we had gotten our fill, we finally reached the boathouse, the scene of many a romantic film, a waterfront cafe which overlooks one of central park's lakes and then continued on down the boulevard which is perhaps the singularly most filmed spot in New York. Countless celebrities have walked down this pathway as part of a movie and it was just gorgeous to see it and walk along it. What was particularly beautiful was the plaque monuments on the bench seats in the park. Each seat had a dedication to a loved one or someone special to the park. There was one dedication to a couple who had been together for 50 years and were new yorkers. It made me feel all warm inside, was lovely to see and gain a little insight into some of the people who call the big apple home.

then it was on to Central Park Zoo. Well its a small zoo, but its completely outdoors pretty much and very interactive, you feel so close to all the animals, especially the penquins and seals, it is just unbelieable, there are no fences per se, just glass walls and no big walls or guardrails, it was quite unnerving but at the same time refreshing to be so close to the animals. I did get a bit nostalgic for home though, we went into the rainforest enclosure and they had a humdity machine on and it was so humid you couldnt even take photos lol. it kep fogging up my lens! lol. and it made me miss home a bit, the heat, the unique beauty of the bush and rainforest. Quite missed it a bit after that, espeically once I walked out into the frigid air which was still hovering around -4 degrees. not pretty!

We kind of let our legs and eyes do the talking then and strolled down 5th avenue, taking in Tiffanys and Co (all 4 floors) which was awesome and completely overwhelming!, then onto the disney store, cartier, saks, barneys, over to rockefeller centre ( we left that for another day as Alice was coming to check it out with us on sat), then went up past all the famous ones, louis vutton, prada, banana republic and then to 42nd st, the New York Public Library, Grand Central Station, Chrysler Building and then onto Times Square. Over the course of the next few days we visited a whole host of sites and rather than go through my days blow by blow i am going to itemise by location and venue to give you some of my thoughts and experiences on them:

New York Public Library : words cant describe this place, its awe inspiring, think of every movie you've seen filmed ina library, well this library is the epitomy of narnia for all book lovers. Its ancient, and cultural and just downright charming. Its so gorgeous I could have stayed in there and soaked up the atmosphere with all the other students and bookworms and read to my hearts content.. ahh sigh.. if i lived in NY id spend a lot of my time here

Times Square: Blink during the day and you'd miss it. But we went back at night time and it was a surreal place. The lights, the billboards, the ads, the people the craziness of the broadway shows, the hawkers and the traffic. All combined it makes for an increidble place. During hte day its not so impressive but at night is when it really comes alive. It was here i had a starbucks coffe an, eggnog latte hehe, and xmas songs and carols were playing in every store, and every sales assistant choruses the words happy holidays.

Grand Central Station: Well this was not as spectacular as I thought, i think because it was xmas time there were lots of distractions inside and you couldnt really absorb it all. it was beautiful and the architecture and ceilings were amazing but not as wonderful as I thought it would be.

Empire State Building: Well its not as pretty at the chrysler building but it was unbelievable to visit. As we were walking down to 34th St, I could see it peeking out from the buildings, well perhaps peeking is not hte word, lumbering out of the building skyline. It was impressive. The line up wasn't too bad but it was the lifts that were the scary experience. I couldnt begin to imagine how old they must be because they rattled their way up to the 86th floor and then we had to walk up three flights because they were so slow. You could hear the nuts and bolts of the lift grinding and squeaking and squealing as it hauled you up to the top floor. Once up there the view was breathtaking, manhattan as far as the eye could see, chrsyler, brookyln and manhattan bridge, 42nd st and all the lights below it was just magical if you ignored the wind that threatened to steal your camera from your hands and hurl it over the edge. I felt like it was cutting right through me, the wind chill was freezing and we could only stay out there for a short amount of time. But while I did I felt like I had jsut done soemthign which would stay with me always, I had just viewed New York from the top of the empire state building.

Ice Skating in Central Park: Well this day it was hte day of my mate Kate's bday and it seemed like all good luck was raining down upon us. We wandered through central park and got to the iceskating rink and a radio station in NY was letting in the first 1000 people for free, including free skate hire and locker hire. So basically what was going to be an expensive day ended up being rather cheap. We finally got out onto the ice and i expected to fall over and crash but you know what I didn't! and i was very proud of myself. I went around at least 10 times and then on teh final lap i crashed and hit the deck and was laughing so hard I couldnt get up. It was so much fun. It has to be the absolute highlight of the trip, skating while looking up at the manhattan skyline surrounded by fellow skaters, some skating for their first time with xmas music playing in the background it was just magic. Those are the only words I can use to sum it up, magic.

Rockefeller Centre: Well because we had a big day we didnt get to rockefeller until late in hte afternoon as the sun was setting and due to lines didnt get up til nighttime. It was utterly packed, the ice skating rink line was a mile long and people were everywhere. Mind you navigating our way through the crowd (who is on the whole rather nice and happy in comparison to moody, pushy and grumpy london crowds) was a task in itself, but once we finally found the way to the observation desk, we had a blast. There was no wind, and although there was glass panelling on the lower deck, on the upper deck we got the most sensation views of hte hudson river, chrysler and empire state and brooklyn bridge without the wind at all. it was unbelievable and definitely worth it.

Brookyln and Brooklyn Bridge: Well truth be told I cant say alot about Brookyln, as I only saw a sprinkling of it before climbing the stairs to the bridge and making my way across it into lower manhattan. It was a surreal experience as well. everyone about new york is so different and strange, because its so familiar because its been seen in so many movies yet its also strange. Walking hte length of it while also checking out hte views to lady liberty and the skyline was lovely. While i was totally freezing my butt off it was definitely worth it.

Financial District - Wall St, Wld Trade Centre Site and etc: Well I have to say i was quite excited about checking out lower manhattan and all the key financial highlights, including wall street, the new york stock exchange, the key bank headquarters, the sky rises. one place I wasnt excited about was the world trade centre site, but all the same I wanted to see it. We walked along the hudson in bitterely wind to battery park where you can view lady liberty from there, unfortunately the line to ellis island and liberty statue were about 2-3 hours long. Not worth it so we continued on, a monumnet which used to be inside the centre is now in the park with an eternal flame which burns next to it. When we came to the site, the first thing I saw was cranes and lots and lots of american flags. They have started construction on the site to build a memorial and it felt very strange and sad to see this site with no memorial as such or museum or dedication set up. Just a viewing platform from inside the financial centre. The space is just massive, where those two towers stood. I was just overwhelmed at the gap this site left in the middle of the area.It was monumental and it also left a sizeable gap in the hearts of new yorkers. Its still raw, you can feel it in the people around u near the site, workers and stuff you can see it etched on their faces, all the tourists flocking to the site, it actually seems to hurt them in some way but they also want it acknowledged as well. its hard to explain but I felt I was encroaching on their personal grief and pain and not sure id go there again.

Greenwhich Village and SoHo: I loved it loved it loved! i know why so many people rave about the village now, the vibe the atmosphere its so artsy and alternative, hip and cute and i lvoe it. We went to the magnolia bakery where carrie and miranda from sex and the city go to try cupcakes and it was tasty but not as good as the humingbird bakery. You had to line up for quite a while and while it was a must do, i prolly wouldnt recommend it.

All in all, it was an amazing, overwhelming and extremely fund and exciting place to visit. The people really make it, their service and friendliness were beyond what I expected americans to be like. not that i stereotype but i suppose i expected something similar to london. Its not at all, very very different and you have to love it for that. 4 days just wasnt long enough, I wanted to stay longer, and ill definitely be back, i didnt get to see any of the art galleries or fantastic museums, or get to ellis island which i definitely want to do.

All in all, New York was a surprise, it took me completely by surprise and its heart beat overtakes your own and before long you are smitten. Youre on New Yrok time. Suddenly the fact everything is open 24 hours becomes the norm and you get used to the fact that its the city that never sleeps and while your in it, u never fully rest either. I must sound ridiculous but i seem to lose my heart to every place I go to. its like my destinations are beocming my lovers and I leave a piece of me everywhere I go. One thing I do know for sure, there will always be a piece of me waiting for me when I return to good old New York, New York.

xxx

luv

jess

irish eys are smiling

wandering_jess — Sun, 16 Nov 2008 22:11:00 GMT

Well ireland has always appealed. How could it not with its folklore, leprechauns, faeries, stunning coastline, charming locals and picturesque countryside, and friedly atmosphere. Personally I had not thought about what I wanted from the trip at all before we headed there on a three day shamrocker tour. First stop was Dublin, then the next day we headed off across the middle of ireland across the river shannon, over to doolin then down to the dingle penisula, dingle istself, cliffs of moher, then onto kilarney, blarney and blarney stone/castle before returning to dublin.

Well the irish people are a funny lot, seriously superstitious which I could relate to, but they are to the point of the extreme, while on tour I was introduced to quite a lot of folklore including:

Faeries and Faery trees (yes its spelt this way not the other way) - basically the irish believe in the magical land of the faeries, and that they live underneath faery trees. Faery trees are distinguished by standing alone on their own in a field away from other trees and have a slight magical feel about them. The theory is dont mess with the faeries and they wont mess with you. They take this so serious in fact, that in one county in ireland, they had a faery tree which was in the middle of a area that was marked for a new road. The locals revolted an protested and eventually the local government had to build the road around the tree, costing close to £2million just to go round it. Quite funny when you think about it.

Leprechauns: they are described as mischevious little beggars, who will do their best to steal your gold and valuables, the chance of someone actually getting a pot of gold off a leprechaun is practically impossible and they have been seen from time to time about and are mainly miserly little creatures and love getting up to mischief.

The banshee: the legend has it is that the banshee is always crying and sad because she is greiving for the lost sons of ireland and feels every death as if it is her own son. If you see the banshee then it means that either you or someone close to you is going to die so not good news at all.

white horses: if you see a white horse its good luck and if you see 50 it means the next man you will meet will be your husband or man of your dreams.

More little sayings:

It is not safe to pick up an unbaptized child without making the sign of the cross.

It is unlucky to accept a lock of hair from a lover.

If a chair falls when a person stands up, it is an unlucky omen.

If you possess a four-leaf shamrock you will have good luck in gambling, good luck in racing, and witchcraft will have no power over you. But, you must always carry it on you. You cannot give it away. You cannot show it to anyone.

If chased at night by a ghost or an evil spirit, try to get to a stream of running water. If you can cross it no devil or evil spirit will be able to follow.

Do not turn off a light while people are at supper. If you do there will be one less at the table before the year is out.

If you want a person to win at cards, put a crooked pin in his coat.

If the palm of your hand itches you will be coming into money. If it's your elbow you will be changing beds. If your ear itches and it is red and hot, someone is speaking bad of you.

If you want to know the name of the person you are to marry, put a snail on a plate sprinkled with flour. Cover the plate and leave it overnight. In the morning the initial of the person will be on the plate, traced by the snail.

Sticking a penknife into the mast of a boat while under sail is considered unlucky.

It's unlucky to have a hare cross your path before sunrise.

To take away lighted sod from a house on May days or churning days is unlucky. To do so takes away the blessing of the house.

and theres many more, but those are the main myths and superstitions of county clare, a highly superstituous yet equally charming county in Ireland that is home to winding roads and gorgeous valleys and landscape.

Doolin which is the home of a rather famous irish music festival, is not far from it is Lisdoonvarna, which is home to the The Matchmaking Festival where basically hoardes of women come to the city and men too to get it on, and pash and meet and find love. Mainly all that happens is lots of random shagging but its now become a monumental event that they are consdering cancelling it because it puts too much of a strain on the little town of 500 when over 10,000 people converge on it for one crazy lust filled month each year.

During our trip we stayed in quaint little villages and hostels which was fun, as we got to have a pint with the locals and hang out and chat to them,. Kilarney was a definitive highlight, it has a ratio of 5 men to every girl. So needless to say we were popular women lol. But the funniest thing was kate and I stayed out til about 3am and danced the night away. Irish boys are hilarious, instead of random pick up lines you get ' hello you look well' and 'well arent u a sight for sore eyes', ' arent u a heauty' and other lines , it was quite lovely and poetic to be honest, in between fits of gigles. I just couldnt help it. You heard it here first. Irish men are the funniest dancers I have ever seen. Even to popular music they do a jig. Thats right a michael flatelyesque gig. Can you picture it? Grown men jigging to Jay z and fifty cent? I was in hysteriscs, while they definitely were cute and adorable, they were funny all the same. My stomach hurt by the end of it from all the laughing. They mainly bounced up and down kicking their feet about and shouting really loud. Their accent just makes you swoon its adorable and they know their affect on foreign women and they love it. Lets just leave it at that!

We stopped in at a whiskey distillery which was an experience, i tried some of their killer liquor and it was good i have never been a big whiskey fan, but after that I am now an admirer of sorts. I certainly would have loved my dad to have been there so he could have appreciated it with me. It made me think of him and just to let you know dad I sent you a mini bottle for you to taste at xmas with your pudding.

I got quite caught up in the scenery and culture of Ireland, it felt like it stirred soemthing in me. With my family's Irish and English roots it felt surreal to be in the country that some of my relatives used to live in before bording the boat to Australia.

And the irish have all their little ways of doing things as well, for example, they have no post codes, or street numbers even in places outside of dublin, belfast and derry. all the rural or small town areas u just put the family name and suburb and it gets delivered. and if you have a new person living in the palce or someone visitng who is getting mail there, it gets around and the mailman figures out which place to deliver it to. Just remarkable!.

Of course there is a not so nice side to irish culture and thats the culture of drinking, we saw more than our fair share of drunks at 10am and 11am in the morning on some days and it was really sad to see how much the drink had affected their lives.

But on the whole the irish are a hearty, healthy and happy bunch. Always smiling always up for a chat and they adore australians and talking about australia. Another person they love is bill clinton and america, they are obsessed with america, i was there during the obama election results and there was obama coverage everywhere and everywhere u went everyone was talking about it. The irish have strong ties to america even now and they clearly get very invovled in the politics of it all.

Ireland was rather rainy and cold and miserable but it doesnt rain on your spirit, in fact, the weather is its only downside and it seems to bring out the better in people there rather than the worst. People smile and make an effort and they certainly show why it is that makes Ireland such a lovable country. The irish brougue, the hearty food, I had a stew and guiness pie and fish and chpips and lots of irish tucker, i tried guiness a the guiness factory ( which was surprisingly good, they say the further you are away from ireland the worse the guiness tastes and i think this may be true as I liked it in Dublin), visited the prestigious trinity college and also st patricks cathedral and took in a tour of the book of kells, which is held at Trinity Universisity. Ireland's equivalent of Cambridge or Oxford. The book of kells was something else, being a hopeless bookworm and enthusiast, I was transfixed by the library in the Trinity College and the book of kells, which is an highly illustrated and illuminated manuscript in Latin , containing the four gospels of the new testament together with various prefatory texts and tables. It was transcribed by celtic monks ca. 800. now im not religuious in anyway but it was awe inspiring, the colour, the detail, the intricacy of the book, the celtic calligraphy, the words, written centuries ago, it was just mind boggling. I was overwhelemd by it and it felt incredible to have seen this, it was as old as some of monuments i have seen, it had a special significance in being on such fragile paper and illustrated and written so delicately.

I want to go back, as i say of nearly every place i visit, but i want to visit belfast and derry and see giants causeway, im intrigued by the polical and bloody turmoil of irelands past, i have seen a beautiful, cultural stunning side to ireland and now i want to see a bit more of its underbelly.

all in all ireland was a colourful character, much more than I though it would be and of course charming and beguiling, I can see how this green green land could capture the heart of many a wayward traveller and how they could end up never leaving its windswept and gorgeous shores. When you are in ireland the irish eyes are always smiling and you can't help but smile along with them.

The whole time I was over here I thought of you nanna and your family's history, I will get to tiperary to visit our original roots soon.

jess

charming cairo

wandering_jess — Tue, 4 Nov 2008 03:14:00 GMT

Well I'm right at the end of my tour, last day today and just chilling in cairo before our 4am flight to amsterdam and london.

Well I don't know if I cld possibly put it all into words. The trip itself has been lifechanging, the culture of egypt, the people and the country itself has a beguiling charm which has wrangled a place into my heart.

I have a sneaking suspicion this is going to be a long and winding entry so be prepared guys.. a lot has happened so lots to fill u all in on.

It was a long road to get to egypt as well, we flew out - me, carmen and cathy, from london straight to amsterdam arriving at 11pm at night. When we got into amsterdam we went straight to the luggage carosel only to find our bags weren't there. Turns out there had been a mistake at check in and our luggage was booked to continue on to cairo when we flew out the next nite. So with just our backpacks and clothes on our backs we set off for the hostel. We negotiated a fare with our driver as we were driving along, another car pulled up alongside us and the driver obviously knew the other one and made the facial expression for blow job which sort of summed up my experience there.

When we finally got to the hostel it was no surprise to find it was dodgy dirty and unpleasant but it was a bed for the nite. After being woken several times by our noisey room mates we freshend up as much as we cld with our airline fresh packs then set off for a day of sightseeing. First stop was anne franks house. It was a freezing blisteringly cold day which seemed to make a visit to her house all the more poignant, luckily I had my runners and coat with me so I was warm enough. When we got to the house I was struck by how simple, normal and completely ordinary it looked. The bottom old warehouse part had been transformed into a modern part of the museum. No cameras are allowed inside but the moment I stepped inside I knew I wld remember it forever with my heart. we entered the first room and there was a film with extracts from the diary and it set a sombre mood over those listening. There was a constant flow of people inside but I felt completely alone, esconded in a silent box absorbing everything around me. I was met by large sized images of anne and I was struck by her innocent beauty and the naveive hopeful personality which shone thru her face. As we wound our way thru the house, past the secret staircase behind the bookcase and into the kitchen, living and bedrooms which were crammed into the hidden annexe i was overwhelmed by just how very small it was and that 8people had once lived in this place for just over two years, u cld see the view to the street that anne would sometimes secretly covet and it was surreal to be standing in the same spot where she had penned numerous writings to her kitty, her diary. I had just finished re-reading her diary before i visited the place and it made the experience all the more real. What really hit home for me was a filmed interview of one of the women who helped hide hte franks in the house, and also a neighbour who saw anne at auschwitz and tried to give her secret food, just days before she died, not long after her sister died. I saw the entry on the auchwitz entry book where the franks signed their names when they arrived, so many names so many families were in there it was a sight to see. Just so devastating to think that so many families lost their loved ones in that place. There was a film piece by otto frank before he died where he talks about what it was like surviving the camp and searching for his wife and daughters and what it was like reading annes diary. I became overwrought and had a good long sob, his grief was so palable, so raw and penetrating it just made u appreciate how lucky we are to have never had to go through what he went through, and some of annes words on how we are all of one race, humanity and that one day, people wont be viewed by religion or race and be seen as people who are capable of love, forgiveness and of living together peacefully..

At the end of the tour, I bought a copy of the anne frank diary from the museum, it only felt right and it went to the charity which preserves all historical pieces of jewish culture during world war two. It really was one of those experiences you know will last with you for a very long time.

after this we meandered along the picturesque canals of amsterdam before reaching the city square and navigating our way to the red light district. It wasn't nearly as what i had expected, possibly because it was day time and not as busy, but seeing hte women in the windows, the men going in and out so openly, stoned people on every corner and all the sex which oozed out of every pore of hte centre wasn't all that exciting, in fact it got a bit boring. We went to the sex musueum where i posed with a giant sized penis and as a dominatrix in a photo, checked out sexualised cartoons, - just a word of wisdom here, disturbing beyond belief to see the seven dwarves getting excited over snow white.. very odd.. that story will never be the same for me again!.. nor will tom and jerry!

So it was one of my goals to see a live sex show, just to have seen it and finally we found one. But we got the times mixed up and ended up going into it like an hour too early and because it was rainy and miserable and horrible outside we just decided to wait in the room/theatre before hte show. Meanwhile, they played porn over and over.. it was funny, we had a good giggle and i had a nap while i waited. The show consisted of two strip shows and one live couple show. The first two strip shows were the worst i have ever ever seen in my life!. it was shocking, they couldnt dance and one lady was in her 40s-50s.. just not pretty either.. like a school matron.. the funniest part really was when the couple came out.. they played gregorian chant music, with the words echoing throughout the room 'relax, meditate let ur mind relax' god i was in hysterics, they were wearing hooded cloaks and then they started doing their thing to the music, there was one guy in frnt of us who kept moving just to try and see from differnt angles what was happening.. god it made me laugh.. the couple looked so bored and he cld hardly get it up, so for me it simply wasnt all that exciting and rather boring to be honest.

After that we just walked around then headed to a local cafe before going to train station and off to the airport for the most exciting part of hte journey.. egypt.

From the moment we arrived at cairo city airport it was a culture shock. It was unlike anything I cld have ever prepared myself for , as we touched down on the runway there was a place in the middle of hte runway where there were random palm trees, just planted in the middle because thats the done thing. Palm trees are everywhere over here! There are no traffic lights over here, its just everyman for himself on the roads and honking horns are the rules of the road. On my first day here i saw a blind man crossing 8 lanes of busy traffic, just crazy. Cairo itself is shrouded in a grimy film of smog, the buildings are permanent shades of grey and dirty brown. The entire city looks as though it cld do with being put in a massive bath tub and scrubbed and washed to within an inch of its life. The praying from the mosques are played by speakers throughout the city 5 times a day and gives it an eerie, almost soulful feel. The men stare, and the women are covered, and tourists are hassled constanly. But it has a beguiling charm that gradually warms the heart to its gritty murky core. While the culture is so differnt, family is very important here and little children are always safe, they are on the streets til late at nite and everyone, even strangers look out for them. Its just not a concern.

The first day we went to the egyptian museum of antiquities and saw some oif tutakamens treasure, mummies which still had their hair, eyes and nails which was rather creepy and many other artefacts before continuing on to an original papryrus shop, u could buy pictures painted or drawn onto the papyrus so i decided to get a couple. THen it was off to spinx and pyramids. It was incredibly surreal to be standing in front of hte pyramids and seeing it all for the first time, just crazy. Our guide Hassan really made our trip, his passion for egyptology and his knowledge got us all excited and i learnt so much about the culture, religion, traditions and ancient egyptian heritage from him.

At the pyramids, we went ona camel ride to get a view of it all, it was breathaking soaking in the view of the pyramids over cairo.. i dont think pictures will ever convey the sheer presence and beauty of these structures and just how small u feel next to them.

That night we boarded the train to aswan which was one of my favourite places. its an ancient city, formerlly known as thebes during the roman rule of egypt, and has a vibe thats hard to describe, our hotel sat in the middle of the city's bazaar. Its a small city with only two small streets, but in the bazaar they had baby crocodiles you could pat and have pictures taken with, jewellery, spices, and everything you could iomagine. it was just lovely. But that is when the hassling began, and it didnt stop. The store venders loved to try it on.

I can't tell u the amount of times I heard a whole range of lines
' Hello beautiful, will u be my wife? How many camels'
' Lovely body' 'nice coronas' 'mmm spices', ' I don't know what u want but in my store I have it', 'give me ur money, buy my things', and so much more it was hilarious and honestly I wasn't that bothered but it did get annoying some times. a classic one was though " look at the ground" and id look then the guy would go "my heart, my heart, u stepped on it" lol god it made me laugh. I dont know why but a few thought i was egptian or italian looking, so they would try and talk to me in arabic or italian. but once they knew we were aussie they would say "gday mate" and "aussie aussie aussie, oi oi oi" it made me laugh.

Our group was a great group of 6 guys and 5 girls.. i got along really well with all of them nad have all agreed to meet up soon again in london and a couple who i know i wil be good friends with.

On one of our days in aswan we went to the temple of Abu Simbel, a temple made my Ramses the second, for him and a temple he made for his wife nefetari.. it was absolutely stunning and beautiful, its featured in quite a few movies and the facade and inside was breathtaking. The sad thing was seeing the graffiti, people from the 1800s and 1700s had written on the temple their names and stuff and it was so sad to see these impressive relics defaced in such a way. The road to abu simble is long and isolated so we had to travel witha police convoy to be safe and this made travel a bit of aslow process.

From aswan we boarded our felucca ( a traidtional egyptian sailboat) to luxor where valley of hte kings, and hot air balooning at sunrise awaited us. The felucca was an open one level sailboat with a large bed under a shade sail which was where we slept, ate and chilled out. The nubian captain took us to a secluded nubian village where we met the local children, bought their local jewellery, i had a henna tattoo put on me and just enjoyed their company and their dancing. The food was devine, mainly lebanese kind of bread, with tahini sauce, beef and lamb kofta and falafel, just delicious, the weather was very warm but not too hot and was lovely to just chill out in the sun and relax. I began to really feel like i was on holiday. The nile was gorgeous at sunset and sunrise, i saw it every day and it was beautiful. The borders of hte river were rich and lush with vegetation and oasis type trees and wildlife but beyong its fringes was orange, red and yellow desert.

When we finally got to luxor and after a much needed shower and sleep in our hotel we headed off the next morning for hte hot air balooning. I was grumpy after not getting a lot of sleep and bit sore from the cramped conditions on the felucca, but when we finally got to the site, i was filled with excitement, we took off just west of valley of the kings and were in the air to see the sun peak over hte horizon and light up the valley, as u will see in the pictures it was unreal. Our baloon driver was a bit of a character and deliberately made out like we were going to crash once just to freak us out and lowered us so we could skim the top of a farming field. A bit scary but gave us a good laugh. They were so professional and skilled, i think it was a real credit to them for how it was conducted which i have to say has to be said for much of egypt, the tourism facilities and their behavioru and treatment of us was really lovely, people even people in the street would say welcome and hello and would just like to stop and chat to you. it was a wonderfula nd endearing feature of the place.

For the trip to valley of hte kings we hopped on a donkey and made the trek there, i had a slow donkey who ignored any attempts to speed things up and just plodded along at the last of the group which was so frustating. When we got there the sun was already high in the sky and in egypt its the morning time were it is most hot. I hardly drank any water and soon started feeling faint. After sitting in the shade for a while, my guide was helping me to the car when i passed out onto him. I came around to our whole group staring at me and an american medic talking to me one of the guys in the group said " you'll have to talk slow shes australian" and it made me laugh. Because i was feeling so dizzy and exhausted they thought it was just heat exhaustion and i shd take it easy. We took in two more tombs before i started to feel worse, so the guide took me to the hospital where i had to get a jab in the bum to stop me from being sick. Going into a third world hospital was an experience in itself but they were very good to me and i was feeling better in no time.

And now the tour is virtually over. it will be on to ireland next but i cant ignore what egypt has done to me personally. Seeing the poverty, the people, it has changed a lot about the way i view things now i think. It has also reignited my desire to see africa and not only see it but volunter over here or in jordan or syria. the culture and history is just awe inspiring, as our guide said to uis on our first day, if you are lucky enough to fall in love with egypt then it will fall in love with you. And i cant believe it has had such an impact on me.

It was so sad to see the way they treat their animals, stray dogs and cats, one dog who had clearly just had pups came up to me in luxor temple and nuzzled me and was dying for affection so i cuddled her and patted her and she was so gorgeous.. i obviously used disinfectant gel later but some of hte animals crave affection so badly you just want to pick them up and hold them. but this is their way of life and u have to respect it.

Of course there is the staring and constant ogling by some of hte men, but they never touched and they never did anything un toward, it was just felt and when i did cover up i did feel it was more out of respect for their culture then out of initimation of the men. They were more curious, fascinated but were very accepting of other ways of life and the way other people are. So that was differnt and hard to get used to but it didnt affect my trip in a bad way.

One thing i did get a lot of insight into was muslim cutlure, which is so different to what we are told and how it is represented to us in the western world. Our guide was very very candid and open about sharia law, and islamic culture and while some of it was shocking, the rest of it was really interesting and im resolved to buy a koran when i go back to london, if not just to understand more about it. The world could do a lot to understand the cultures of others, and i felt very ignorant when talking to him and asking questions. I feel the same about other coutnries i want to visit i want to learn more and understand more..

One thing is for certain tho, while i got sick and had an upset tummy I adored egypt, i think its one of those places you either love or hate. Despite its harsh exterior, its dirty, confronting exterior, deep in its heart beats a country proud of its heritage, culture and holds strong to its values and identity.

lots of love

xxxxx

jess

jack frost is just around the corner

wandering_jess — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 06:11:00 GMT

Well I suppose it would come as no surprise to everyone that its starting to get colder over here and I'm actually enjoying it.

Over here you can really feel, see, touch and sense the seasons. I felt spring, the greeness the baby animals, the flowers and vibrance of it, i barely felt summer but it was here, however briefly it was and now autumn is in full force.

The trees are starting to turn orange and leaves are beginning to fall. The wind is starting to get a real bite to it and the days are becoming shorter, its now pitch black at 8pm, no longer days now and very soon the clocks will soon be going back and we truly will be having shorter days.

Everyone has started to rug up, scarves, woollen coats and the air is sharper to breathe in. I love it. I am looking forward to a real winter, a winter where snow will be about hopefully...and I'm already investigating an electric blanket and some funky tights to wear in winter.

The fashion over here, especially for winter is amazing, you can be all rugged up and still look completely stylish. Of course this is quite an art and I'm still trying to shrug off the slightly woken up or backpacker style look at the moment but I'm getting there. I'm going to treat myself to a few little fashion bits and pieces from H&M, Dorothy Perkins and get a proper london fashion fix.

There are a few things I've noticed that come with the season, such as umbrellas. In london particuarly on the tube, there is no such thing as manners, its every man or woman for himself, push, shove and make ur way on the train, so no mercy, don't falter or question your direction or you will be knocked down you have to surge ahead even if its in the wrong direction. But this rush our tube rage is even more perilous when rain is involved. Fashion is put aside on the tube, everyone wears runners to work, heels just dont work in transit. But its the umbrellas which are most dangerous, you are making your way through a crowd, you have to dodge pointy umbrellas which people just throw at you. They just barge and honestly i have to put down my head and barge back to avoid being:

a) poked in the eye

b) falling over

c) seeing that I'm also poking someone else in the eye

d)to stop from getting wet

Thats another thing about the rain over here, It is horizontal. Umbrellas don't actually work too well the best of times. Because it just flies plain underneath it.

And another thing about autumn, the falling leaves look so picturesque like you coudl just go and roll around in it and really embrace the fall. But unfortunately its not the case, the leaves are quite damp and cold and they smell, so I was quite dissapointed that I couldn't have my roll around in the leaves.

London is beautiful in Autumn light, it has a soft amber glow, while the clouds linger and showers dash about throughout the city, it still has a soft ambience to it. The squirrels dash about gathering little bits of food for the coming cold. Winter is biting at its heels and bringing some of its greyness to its edges, but at its corner Autumn is lovely. I just can't wait to see London all lit up and decorated at Christmas. I think this is a city that will wear the festive season well with pride.

With jack frost knocking on my window pane and nipping at my heels I am going to make the most of this charming season. I am going to go to many of the parks to see the changes in colour, because it will be brilliantly alight with colour.

And maybe if the days are bright and dry enough I will finally get my roll in the london autumn leaves.

Hampton Frivolty

wandering_jess — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 01:36:00 GMT

I have always been a fan of history, its a known fact I am quite the history geek. All things tudor in particular. Of course I have had a long love affair with world war 2, world war 1, the black plague, mediveal periods and etc.. but the tudors.. thats the sweet spot for me.

So when I finally made the trek out to Hampton Court Palace with brett in tow a couple of weekends ago it was like all the phillipa gregory books had come to life for me.. of course historicial fiction doesnt compare to the real thing.. but little did I realise that on one sunny saturday I would be kneeling before the king himself, curtsying and taking in all the finery of court life and hear his booming voice which used to strike fear into the hearts of many a courtesan..

When we arrived there I had enviosned his palace , wel the palace in which he spent much of his time to be grandiose and mangificient much like the man himself and it didn't dispaoint. afterall this is the place where he spent three of his honeymoons to his six wives here, his children Mary, Edward and the infamous Elizabeth the 1st spent all their reigns at this palace so to me, it seems possibly more notable and famous then the current Buckingham palace today. Certainly richer in its history that is.

First stop was the erver popular maze, which wasn't as large or as scary as I first thought but I dd feel the rising panic as we trundled our way through it, reaching dead end after dead end.. depiste it being a beautiful blue day you do feel quite isolated while making your way through it/ I was glad to see the end and I even came across a squirrel that seemed to have lost its bearings in that maze.

We timed our visit perfectly with a royal tour which takes you through the royal rooms, royal hall, and out to the courtyard. Itr is such a shame that when WEilliam and Mary took over reign theat parts of the palace were pulled down. You can actually see the diving walls where tudor style meets french georgian srtyle archiecture. It is so devstating that Henry's sitting room, royal reception, bedroom chamber and were all demolished as I would have loved to have stepped into the rooms where he once slept and etc. But what remains is still breathtaking. The courtyard is home to the astronomical clock. Its one of hte most famous in the world, it was made in 1540 which shows the hours and days of the year, the times of the tides, phases of the moon and the golden sun travelling around an imobile earth. Something which was believed to be true at the time. Henry was most taken with all things astrological, astrology, stars signs and mysticism intrigued him and the clock itself is certianly a sight to behold..

We were in the middle of our tour when suddenly a horn bellowed and everyone around me dropped to their knees.. all the tour stff are dressed in tradtional tudor service and upper class clothing. So following example I kneeled and turned to the sound. There stood a Henry VIII look alike with a young Anne Boyelyn.. Complete with bandage around his wounded leg and ostrich feather cap he was entrancing to watch. He bellowed out to the crowd and a senior royal court official bowed to him and discussed some matters of the court. Henry paraded the courtyard and spoke to several people before proceeding into the royal greeting room. Luckily due to my pushy nature I was one of the ones to be granted into the room where you can watch all the activities of court life. I have to say for a history buff like me it was as authentic as the real thing. Someone who approached Henry turned his back on his and was reprimanded for turning his back on teh king and forced to sit in a corner for his behaviour.. this man was just on the tour like I was.. it would have been hilarious had it not been so realistic.. his temper flared and before long I left.. he put on such a good show you felt nervous of his tempers and moods.. you could feel the accusational eye he used to survey his royal court with boring into you and I had enough..

Next there were the costumes from the other boylen girl movie which were interesting but what was most captivating was the gardens which have been kept in much the same style as traditional tudor times. It was beautiful, three separate gardens with fountains and a massive lake which turns into a ice skating rink by winter. A massive nature reserve for deer which Henry used to hunt and goregous chestnut trees which border the property.. horse drawn carriages carted before to and fro throughout the grounds. You could spend an entire day or weekend here.. I loved it and was loathe to leave it after just two hours... While I am into history and love it.. sam if you havent been here you have to go you will love it! like me she is a tudor fan.. but even if you aren't the history which Hampton Court is steeped in is unforgettable, the characters on display, the authenticity of the place, the church, maze and gardens make it a perfect introduction to historic royal life..

I am constantly overwhelmed by the history that seems to be a part of everything you touch over here.. just half an hour out of London and there are villages which have been there for centuries and there is a certain sense of satisfaction and fulfillment that comes with experiencing these areas for yourself. As everyone says, London isn't england, england itself I am really starting to love. I am really looking forward to getting into the heart of it. Hopefully I will be going on a roadtrip son to oxford, cambridge, stratford upon avon and bath - stonehenge.. a beautiful introduction into traditional british countryside.

Henry's palace is only one of many castles, palaces and old english manors I would like to become aquainted with a few which are on my list are:

- Windsor Castle - the queens official residence

- Warwick Castle First built by William the Conqueror in 1068, this medieval castle looms over Warwick town.There are archery, falconry and knights-in-armour battle displays, but the real highlight is the castle itself which is supposed to be big, old and impressive as hell.

Tintagel - Where the original authurian legend is supposed to have started.. where there is a sword in the stone.. set on the windswept north-west coast of Cornwall. King Arthur’s fabled castle Camelot is supposedly based on this castle, which is also home to explore Merlin’s Cave where the wizard is expected to have lived.

Bamburgh Castle - . Originally built by the Normans in the 11th century, the fortress was home to kings and queens for centuries, only to be all but destroyed in 1464 during the War of the Roses.

Leeds Castle -The castle (in Kent, not Leeds) dates from the 12th century and has seen its fair share of royalty through its gate, including King Henry VIII it is complete with moat, gardens, maze and roaming peacocks.

and that is just a sample of some of the ones on my list.. this season or summer i am going to go do a tour of buckingham palace - to see the banquet hall set up in its finery and get a real feel for royal life as it is today..

I suppose you coudl call me a royal geek but I wouldnt have it any other way.. and england is the best place I could possibly be to indulge in this addiction..

so beware family of friends there is a real danger I will eventually return home a history nerd in every sense of the word... may the royal history frivolty begin!

Carribean Fever

wandering_jess — Wed, 27 Aug 2008 00:53:00 GMT

When I first heard of notting hill carnival I thought why not? that sounds like fun, another little adventure to tick off my list and seeing as I wasn't going away for the long weekend bank holiday I thought it would make for a nice little highlight for the weekend. Boy was I wrong.... It wasn't just a highlight of my weekend, it was the highlight of the week, the month even.....

How do I even begin to describe it? Its like you have suddenly been dropped into the world of the carribean and all things ethnic.. passion just seems to come natural to these people and being black is just one small part of it.. they have this vibrant attitude that really brings the carnival to life.. at the end of the day ( a five hour parade!) I looked at my pale australian skin (no longer tanned from back home- who am i kidding, i was pale even back home) and I silently wished that I had the beautiful ebony skin of these people who know how to laugh, sing and dance...

Even as Kate and I were walking through the notting hill and westbourne park districts we could smell the outdoor barbecues heating up, the erk chicken being placed on the flaming hot coals, the waft of charcoal snuck into my senses and invaded... it was like being surrounded by a thousand webbers coming to life in one small area... and despite not being a fan of smoked food, this festival changed all that..

Kate and I got there early, went to a pastisserie and I had a cup of tean to warm me up for the festivities.. in a burst of imagination I had put on the skirt I bought for pamplona and a little singlet thinking it would be the perfect outfit to get in the groove for carribean dancing and jiving..afterall August is summer.. but the weather that other ideas.. the steel overcast sky and biting crisp wind had the promise of winter about it and lucky for me I took a cardigan and jumper with me.. my new motto over here is be like a boyscout.. always come prepared.. especially in a town like london which has the weather of all seasons in one day....

so rugged up in a skirt and jumper and kate in her sensible jeans and woolen jumper we made our way to where everyone was meandering.. like ants to a cake in the middle of a picnic people were pouring into the area and claiming their spot for a prime position to be close to all the action of the carnival.. police bobbies were at work putting up blockades.. festival goers were getting their grove on early with horns and whistles.. I still feel like I have a whistle blowing in my head today there were so many.. young and old congregated happily.. all caught up in the happiness of the day.. I had heard rumours of stabbings and fights and shootings of previous years.. but nothing about this day at all seemed to convey that to me.. it was alive, bright and happy and everyone was getting into the spirit.. people in wigs, crazy outfits, australians with wallaby jerseys and kegs of beer.. yes there was one crazy fellow who joined the parade with his keg... made us laugh so much... typical australian lol..

It turns out we were very early. the festival didn't officially kick off until 1pm.. so we kicked back and relaxed and me being me.. I drank it all in.. I couldnt get over the sheer beauty of some of the women and men there.. the african/carribean community has some of the most gorgeous people I have ever met, with their megawatt smiles, bodacious butts that just wiggle when they walk and take on a life of their own when the music erupts..and their infectious laughter and bubbly personalities.. they are entrancing and just so fascinating to watch. You stand there feeling very un exotic and not the least bit indvidualistic when you stand next to them... seeing amazonians goddesses strut their way down the street in front of a bevy of admirers was aweinspiring, they comanded attention and respect and were so in charge of who they were are a people... it was right then and there I decided I want to come back as a carribean woman...with curves in all the right places..

before long I could feel the beat.. thats how you long the parade is coming.. we had nabbed our position along the wetbourne grove.. which luckily for us had no barracades.. the police didnt have enough time to erect them.. so could litterally be in the middle of the festival as the parade went past...the drums reached me first and I could hear the pounding on the pavement.. of thousands of feet dancing to their own rhythm and song in their heart....when the first burst of colour turned onto the street my face split into a massive grin.. the costumes were outrageous, women practically nude others completely covered.. animals, goddesses, creatures both mythical and real took the streets by storm.. armes of drum beaters stormed pass and I couldn't stop my feet.. I wrangled my way to the front with my camera in hand and went nuts..

because there were no barriers you could go up to the performers as they passed and get photos with them, or stand in front of them and get the perfect shot.. i was in heaven.. in some cases I think i had a more enviable position than some of the media pass journos who kept getting coralled by the police.. my favourite part was when a whole troupe of dancers came past and one just grabbed me, pulled me in and started dancing with me randomly..it also helped that he was black and heavenly of course.. but I had so much fun.. i was literally a part of the parade... members of the parade were handing out little postcards asking if next year people would be keen to participate and I grabbed one.. how much fun would that be? to next year be one of the ones all dressed up and shaking their booty? my idea of heaven by the sounds of things..

later on a group of bootylicious women grabbed me and were shaking their asses with me, giving my moves a real run for their money it was hilarious..they were part of the parade and i just made the most of it hehe but I simply couldnt keep up, I thought i had nimble hips, they were nothing compared to the hips of these women..

The most interesting thing was seeing how many white people were in the parade.. quite a lot of women in their 50's, 60's were all dressed up and shaking their thing on the parade and it was great to see..

The beat of the drums and carriabean flavour of all these countries coming together pouring their hearts and souls into this big melting pot of culture was a sight to savour I can tell you, flags representating africa, kenya, west indies,carribean islands, jamaca, and so much more were there..

and before we knew it it was nearly 4 o'clock we had been there over 6 hours and hadn't event realised.. it was unbelievable.. the notting hill carnival is the the biggest street parade in europe and is second biggest in the world.. second only to rio de janeiro.. and i have tos ay.. it made me really want to go to that, i think that would be unbelieavle.. after tasting what it was like here.. I think its yet another thing to go on my wish list..

before i go here are a few friendly facts about the carnival.. the day I went there were 250,000 people there.. and overall the whole weekend at 750,000 people come along to shake their groove thing and watch the festivities..

During the whole weekend the following is eaten _

Five tons of jerk chicken ( no not some really rude or mean form of chicken, its a bbqed smoked chicken.. delish!)

One ton of rice & peas

One ton of Jamaican patties

30,000 corn cobs

15,000 fried plantains

12,000 mangoes

16,000 coconuts

Five million hot and cold drinks

10,000 litres of Jamaican stout

25,000 bottles of rum

70,000 litres of carrot juice

thats a whole lot of food!..

But for anyone thinking of going or who has heard bad things about it, - violence or etc.. ignore it.. this festival is by far one of the most amazing and inspiring ones I have ever been to.. its like stepping into a whole new world.. a world of bob marley, waccy tobaccy, colourful beats, where rhythm sneaks into your mind, heart and blood and gets your body dancing to its tune.. your cant stop the beat and you cant help but love notting hill carnival..

william wallace eat your heart out

wandering_jess — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 01:28:00 GMT

In every place I've gone to I've tried not to form an idea in my head of what I think the people or the place will be like. With spain all I had in my head was bulls, tapas and the word 'ole', literally.. so when I got there everything even the bad things were something to embrace.

Thats pretty much the same mindset I had when I went to scotland. My main reason for heading up there was to visit meegsie, who is leaving in October as I had promised to see her and also to get a feel of this place which is the home of haggis, william wallace and all things charming.

Even checking in proved to be a challenge, all the heck in personaell were scottish. I couldn't understand them. Before I left I looked up some scottish dictionaries, to try and glean a few phrases that may help me. But no, they were no help what so ever except the occasional funnies that made me laugh out loud..

perhaps you'd like to know as an FYI, just in case you guys have better pronounciation skills than I.

Goodbye: Guid cheerio the nou!

Happy birthday:Canty Birthday!

My Scots is bad:Ma Scots is bad.

Big/small:Muckle / wee

I have to go: A hae tae gang.

and my favourite :

my hovercraft is full of eels - Tha mo bhàta foluaimein loma-làn easgannan

so with thsoe thoughts in mind i headed off with rufus for sctoland. I arrived at the bus station to meet meg at about 11.30pm and after a nice cup of wee tea when we got home, I crashed out.

I did notice in the cab over that there seemed to be a lot of wierd people on the streets, by wierd i wmean junkies and hookers and pimps, as we seemed to descend into a seedier and seedier part of town but I put it down to tiredness and my overactive imagination.

Turns out it wasn't my imagination,t eh next day meg expalined to me that glasgow is very much divided between weast and west. The ast being protestants and west being catholic. The ast is one of the most dangerous parts of town, its where nearly 80% of all murders are comitted and she also delighted me by telling me that Glasgow is now recognised as the the city which is home to the most murders per year in Europe, and is in fact more murders each year than New York. Fabulous!

We started out our staturday by meandering over to the Barras markets, infamous for having anything you want, legal and illegal. from guns, to mattresses to dvds to food to porn.. and antiques, it has it all, if you want it you could get it there..

It has developed quite a name for itself oo over time and It was interesting walking past all the characters in the streets. as we slowly made our way over to the east side of town, I noticed the buildings becoming more quaint, and more looked after, the dynamic of the city evovled.. its rather sad to see how the town is so clearly divided

I saw preachers on the street, rallying about the merits of protestant or catholicism.. it was unnerving that something so simple and yet complex hs faith could still be such a problem for our times.. There are bars littered with the signs rangers (protestant soccer team) and catholic celtics (catholic soccer team) only..

we went to the museum, the university, the big park there and just meandered the streets, and took in everything there is to know bout the city, its shopping is amazing, a pituy i was poor and couldnt hmake the most of it, its all so close together not like london and spread out near and far.. I also found and had my first agent provacteur experience. its a lingerie shop, but not any type of lingerie shop, they are high end and have some of hte most controversial displays iaroundhte world.. just recently they had fake blood sprayed all over the windows witht he words lets eat kate (after kate moss was dropped for her drug dependencies) and basically indicating they wanted her blood.. i know it soudns odd but it really is fascinating how they go over the top in their marketing, when I went there , it was still done up from wimbledon, how a store can make tennis balls look sexy and provaccative i dont know,,but they did and they did it well.

I promied myself its just one ofhte things i need to buy whiel im over here, a set of lingerie from there. its so equistie and fine you just cant put it into words, think victoria secret only rten times better. thats my opinion anyway.

so on the way home from our glasgow day out meg picked up some haggis, now i was determined to give it a go and was rather apprenhensive, she roasted it with potatoes and pumpkins (its nearly impossible to get pumpkin over here because they feed it to the pigs).. and it was delicious, tasty and quite herby.. but certainly not something I would go out and eat as a regular thing every friday nite.. but it was great to try wat is a tradional fare in scotland..

for those who dont know what it is made of:

sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally encased in a sheeps stomach and roasted or boiled for three hours.

as gross as it sounds it was good to try....

Impressions of scotland:

the biggest demon i noticed in Glasgow was not so much religion but whisky. There was a whole area in the peoples palace dedicated to alcohol and how it has affected the sctops people, there are carry carts there from when they used to dump epople in them to carry them to the police station. I have never seen so many homeless or bums on the street as what I did there, I couldnt believe the state some of them were in and it mad eme wonder how they ever got into that state in the first place... it was a sobdering experience (no pun intended).. but all in all glasgow was just one of those cities that really drew your eye to some of the things oridinary tourists simple wouldnt be able ot sample or see.. it gave a bit of insight into the scots way of life..

I loved their brouge.. teh scottish twang if you can call it that, and if it sounds adorable on adults, u cant imagine how endearing it soudns coming from children..

Where meg lives there are a big groupd of shildren in the community who play out in the paved bitchuement out the back an uyou can overhear them calling out...

'och noo, I'm zsee baddiee, I'm szee black pooower ranger.. ( spelt it the way it sounds)

the scots as people are gruff and quite grumpy in apperance, they are stoic and quite moody looking but they have the most tender hearts and smiles, its that rough exterior that can put you off, when on the inside there is a warmth that you simply dont see too often.. they are generous too.. i was overwhelmed by how friendly they were if you smiled and made an effort.. they too like us back home, hate tourists who dont make an effort to be polite and are impatient and dont try and at least understand their language.

Infact for some reason, while my dad isnt scottish it reminded me of him, when they said 'moush' and their mannerisms and the gruffness reminded me so much of him, and also the warmness that is also within dad.. they are a beautiful people.

and if glasgow was a harsh glimpse of the realities of scottish life then edinburgh is the epitomy of every scottish stereotype you can possibly imagine or conceieve, with a majestic castle overlooking the city, to mediveal buildings, unusual characters on the street, the towering but gorgeous arthurs seat which overlooks the city and the picturesque royal mile which winds its way up heart of the city to the castle.. it really is just beautiful beyond words. The rolling hills and valleys nearby are just gorgeous.. in fact when i arrived and first glimpsed the city from our bus, I took a sharp intake of breath.. I wasnt prepared for such an awe inspiring city.. it flirts with you as london does, beneath the tartan fabric of its heart lies a cultural city that is bursting with arts, theatre and all things creative. When we arrived it was the start of the fringe festival, - a theatre and comedy gala festival which runs for two and a half weeks. the city was literally bursting at the seams with people but seemed to take it all in its stride.. crazy comedians darted in and out of hte crowd encouraging people to come to their show.. and making fools of themselves..it was like you were breathing in the very essence which keeps Edinburgh's heart beating..

I stepped into a 'wee whisky shop' out of curiosity and sampled some of the whisky, not a hard drinker at all.. i was intringued by the effect this particular drink has on people. I tried some mini samples and the first thing which struck me was it smelt like petroleum and left a burning warmth in the back of your throat, i literally felt warm from the inside out, my mind fuzzed and I felt lightheaded.. I could see its appeal and I could see its strength, the whisky specialist (yes it is a position) said whisky isnt drunk to be enjoyed or flavoured, its drunk in order to get drunk and to get drunk fast.. that struck me as incredibly sad..espeically considering the cost to so many of hte lives caught under its spell..

i saw lots of little things i wanted to get, santa claus xmas decorations with tartan quilts, angels with bagpipes, tartan scarves, all sorts. it was so much fun. of edinburgh, the main things I experienced was just walking up teh street, checking out the view from the castle, going to holyrood house (where the queen stays when she is in the city) and arthurs seat.. it was a wonderful day..in fact when I went to the top of a monumnent in the city I was tempted to call out 'Freedom' at the top of my lungs but rethought it when I saw all the greyhaired americans tottering about among me.

Its a city that I definitely want to go back to, a city I could live in and it has a vibe that is entrancing and intoxicating.. to say I loved the place is an understatement..

So as we took off to go back home with thoughts of haggis, scottish culture and beauty in my head I made a promise to myself.. scotland has not seen the last of me, not by a long shot.. so william wallace eat ur heart out..

Divots, picnics and all things polo

wandering_jess — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 08:07:00 GMT

When I initially agreed to go to a polo match with the girls, I was picturing a similar experience to what I had at ascot. Drunk girls, sometimes trashy dresses and a rambunctious crowd.

That all went out the window the minute we arrived in Windsor and at the Royal Park. It was an interesting bus ride to begin with, with our bus Driver turning off the GPS because it was annoying, getting lost, driving down a narrow one day street and narrowly avoiding running down some of the people on the path, (his theory, there are too many posh people in the world so one less one wouldnt be a crime) he was downright hilarious. A wrinkley old fellow with a penchant for the drink and so many character lines upon his face that you couldnt help peering at him wondering how many stories those lines would tell you if they could talk.

So when we arrived the thing I first noticed was picnics in the carpark. Everyone was parked and had set up picnics with shade sails and etc for drinks and nibbles. The only problem was the carpark was dusty and dirty and cars were constantly driving around. So with every sip of champers they were taking a mouthful of dirt with it. But they seemed to be in in their element so who were we to complain? We retired to a grassy, less dusty area and had a champers before heading into the grounds. Luckily we had grandstand tickets so we had a birds eye view of the game, allbeit it being in the nosebleed section.

Plied with umbrellas out of fear of it raining, we ended up using them to beat the heat. The temps reached 30 degrees celsius that day and we felt every degree. I realised with fear I had done the unthinkable. I had become acclimatised. I was really feeling it, thankfully, by sitting in the last row in the unshaded grandstand we were in direct line for the wafting breeze that provided some relief, however small.

I actually sat with a program on my head for much of the day, it was rather effective in blocking out some of the sun.. but i didnt escape some small amounts of sunburn.

We brought some nibbles and drinks, some nuts and hummous to sample throughout the day and to be honest it was so hot we couldnt eat much at all. In between matches, we spread out in the shade underneath the grandstand and just relaxed, chatted and enjoyed the atmosphere and indulged in one of my much loved sports - people watching..

The theme of the day was floral.. boys were blue striped shirts. Im not kidding here, every second man wore a blue and white striped shirt the girls wore flowing floral summery dresses, complemented with flat pretty thongs or sandals, there were the foolish with heels and glitterati, but the majority were casual and natural.

It was like being dipped in the elegant crisp pool which is that of the british upperclass. About 85% of the people there were english and the rest tourists. It was a big british affair. There was none of the ugliness which raised its head at ascot. This was a primarily civilised day, with picnics and champagne and decorum. It was so authentic, so very british and so very fun. It had an air of class about it without being overwhelmingly pretenious.. i loved it. I actually felt I had finally sneaked a glance into some of englands true culture, something which is hard to find in a place as multicultural as london.

The day started off well with a local match followed by the pomp and circumstance of english ceremony. A marching band, a team of junior and intermediate polo players and a group of calvary with an accompaniment of a group of begals and hounds. One of the beagles ran away from the main pack and went and took a dump on the middle of the pitch it was hilarious.. right in front of prince charles. I loved that puppy for that hehehe.

Then the australia vs england match began. And it was exciting, edge of your seat exciting, they had a scrum, which was the same as rugby but with men on horses, scary and brutal, one polo player and horse fell, and u can imagine hte bruises an injuries they would have later. The horses were changed every four minutes to keep the players playing on the fastest horses. It was a close match, but australia succumbed at 9-10.. the damn english won.. but before englad could claim victory three streakers decided to show the aussie spirit. It was hilarious and a real highlight seeing the antics of them, three in all, so funny watching them jump the fence then get told off later... they werent too far away from us, and suddenly there were naked men in the crowd and running onto the pitch, one after the other.

In half time we went out and pushed down the divots in true polo tradition and went and checked out the goal posts, score board and the aussie team tent. Also scoped out the trophy and tried to grab some glimpses of celebrities, unfortunately no I didnt get to meet any :(

It turns out later that prince charles was pushing divots the same time we were, so we could have in actual fact been pushing down divots near him. unfortunately i did burp a number of times, the champagne and softdrink disagreed with me, so he could of in actual fact have heard one of my burps.. who knows?

At the end of the day I was relaxed and had such a lovely day. it was the ultimate english day out and I would do it again in a secon. It was ten times better than ascot. It was everything it wasnt. It was class, it was casual, it was fun and it was a delight to watch. There is real talent in playing this game and it was amazing to watch.. especially when I can only manage to ride a horse let along hit a ball with a stick while riding.

English culture at its best, laugh if you will but polo is something that u really need to see live to really appreciate it. The atmosphere is what makes it a true english experience and I am already begining to feel like more of a lady...that is til my next adventure

jess

ps. my next trip is glasgow this coming weekend :)

Finding Mr Darcy in manchester

wandering_jess — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 07:03:00 GMT

Well would you believe when I went to manchester I found Mr Darcy? Thats right and I took him home with me. In the form of a bookmark of course...

Manchester what a city of deception. Everyone I spoke to when I said I was going up there to visit one of my closest friends brett they said be prepared for northerner hostility, of closed minds and backward ways.. it couldnt be further from the truth.

They also didnt mention that Manchester's edge flirts with the picturesque and breathtaking peak district which is the stuff of novels. Literally, Pride and Prejudice was based up there and both films were filmed there. At Lyme Park and Chatsworth House.

Brett and his boyfriend, being massive fans of pride and prejudice decided to take me out for a treat to view lyme park and the peak area. It was gorgeous, even during patches of rain and wind, it was stunning. The stone walls which border the gorgeous townships and country villages are reminiscent of every english country notion I could ever possibly summon, it spoke to my heart in every way imaginable and seemed to embody the spirit which is english tradition and england itself.

I fell in love with the area as I am seemingly tending to do with these gorgeous corners and little enclaves of england... walking through lyme park was surreal, I kept exepcting to see miss elizabeth bennet and mr darcy having a heated exhange in the manor gardens or by the lake. It was magical and I sighed thinking of the whimsical romatic ideal that Mr Darcy embodies.. that every girl dreams of meeting and having woo her,.. then i saw the bookmark with one of the famous quotes from the book

indulge me and let me share it - it says: " My real purpose was to see you and to judge whether I might ever hope to make you love me".. ahhh the stuff dreams are made of. So I snapped it up to use during all my reading over here and also a book on country customs and wisedom on things you must do.. lovely old wifetales and etc.. its lovely..

but the weekend didnt end there, we visited bakewell. the home of the infamous bakewell tart and enjoyed a bite before heading back to manchester. Brett and I explored castlefields, spinning fields, manchester piccadilly, took in the mamma mia movie (which is fantastic, we were singing the whole weekend and laughing at poor pierce brosnan who couldnt sing to save his life) the library, the museum and many other sights, i took in the manchester eye and also most interestingly, canal st or as it is well known - anal st... lol.. its the gay nightclub district of manchester which is massive up there. There are lots of same sex couples in manchester which I found lovely, it was so good to see, in such an old town such as manchester.

I hadnt seen brett in two years, its hard to believe its been that long but its like nothing had changed. our friendship still the same and as strong as always.. it was so wonderful to catch up with such an old friend. Like putting on one of your favourite old jumpers that seems to hug you and comfort you in a way you can't explain. It nourished and revitalised me. I came back home to london renewed and filled with more artistic vive and passion then before.. and wrote a full chapter in my book.

All in all, the red brick buildings of castlefields and the canals were simply irristible. In the middle of it all were roman ruins from 250ad, just basically an old fort and battlement. but it added to the rich tapestry of history which manchester has stitched into its heart.

I cant wait to get back up there to sample it again and also take in the delights of blackpool, liverpool and Leeds and of course the lake district.. my next big mission.

and for anyone thinking of venturing into mr darcy territory all i would say is.. give him my regards and take a snapshot of the scenery with your mind. I will carry it with me always.

xxx

jess

Fancy a punt?

wandering_jess — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 06:31:00 GMT

Well one sunny wednesday this month I got to try my hand at punting.. what is punting you may say? well google defines it as:

definition: An open flatbottom boat with squared ends, used in shallow waters and usually propelled by a long pole.

Cambridge has a long loch which hugs the university campus and grounds. It is a pictureseque as it is unusual. With sheep and cows bordering one side and the impressive kinds college on the other side..

Now maybe it was a bit of dutch courage ( work had paid for us to take this trip for team bonding and a bit of champagne was consumed prior to the sea faring cambridge adventure) but I decided to try my hand at punting..

I stood at the bow and used hte long heavy pole to push it along, andn unfortunately my penchant for being clumsy on land followed me onto the water.. the boat toppled and rammed many others, and many a wall and the sides of bridges, before the team finally found a natural rythmn.

Me at the helm with a paddle helping hte steering and my coworker at the other deftly manoveuring the pole in ways I could never do. in the middle was a co worker deathly afraid of freshwater and another enjoying a drink of bulmers while taking in the surrounds.. i was determined to beat the other team and was vicious in my pursuit of punting glory.. when we came alongside the competing team i saw their look of disbelief as i used the paddle to push them out of the way and ram past them.. my sense of competitiveness was suddenly taking control. Anyone who has seen me play netball will know what that means.. it means nothing is going to get in my way.. so i puffed and huffed and paddled our way to glory.. allbeit i rammed more than a few boats along the way who ended up running into the canal walls..

in the midst of this fighting of water powered wills, i did take in the surrounds. Cambridge is picturesque and charming, the campus grounds just encourage contemplation. You can see why so many great english artists and scholars have studied here. You just want to sit under the oak trees, take in the scenery and write a stunning piece of literature, or ponder the theory of relativity or something similar..

bikes seemed to be a popular mode of transport. in particular little bikes with wicker baskets in the front. They were everywhere, on side streets, parked by walls and buildings and they gave the place all the more charm.

At the end of punting when some of my co workers said 'gee you are quite the competitive spirit arent you?', and 'what muscle and brawn you have jess' and 'you are a lively little aussie sporter arent u? you looked like a seagoing mick dundee out there' that i realised maybe i had been a little bit to gung ho.. oops.. but they found it amusing if not charming, so close shave with there... my reputation stil intact. and most importantly no falls into the water or embarassing wet patches to regale you with either.. i was well behaved with the exception of the ramming and the sea battle on cambridge loch..

all in all a brilliant day out, i want to go back there to explore it more, it was just so wonderful and fun.. charming cambridge certainly has stolen a piece of my heart.. maybe one day i will finish a chapter of my book sitting under one of its many impressive and endearing oak trees.

til next time

jess

Gallery: viva san fermin

wandering_jess — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 16:23:00 GMT

pamplona

Spanish eyes

wandering_jess — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 06:18:00 GMT

The bulls, the sangria, the passion, the spirit and the crowds. That just about sums up the key ingredients that make pamplona a visitor's paradise playground.

Everything about Pamplona during the festival of saint fermin was celebrated with a fervour and passion I have never seen. Not even on Australia Day when a snag and beer are in hand on the beach. Nothing compares with sweet tingling scent of sangria and the spirit of the spanish. Never have I met a culture that could party quite like them. They started at the opening ceremony and at 8am at hte bull race the next day they were still drinking and partying in the street. Many locals never even saw the bulls, so consumed with celebration they were. However some did and often ran with the bulls while still rip roaringly drunk.

I arrived in Pamplona after a 20 hour journey, dont ask me why but at the time a group of us thought a bus ride from london through france to spain and the campsite at Estella in northern spain would be a fun way to kick off hte festival rather than fork out extra money for flights. It was cheaper to bus it and camp at the campsite. So we did it.. and I must admit it was lovely to take in the white cliffs of dover as we set off on the ferry for calais, then to take in the lovely beaches and sights of the french town which has an english flavour. I enjoyed passing through the typically quintessential french country side, complete with windmills, quaint villages and country cottages, through to spain. the changes in scenery were as drastic as they come. Its a bit like driving from Brisbane to Sydney and back again. There are so many changes and they sneak up on you. While france was filled with fields of yellow and green. Spain was mountainy, fresh and robust, with streams and little towns dotted on mountain tops, hilly roadside fields a less vibrant green.

It was a magical ride allbeit it long, draining and unrestful, I got possibly two hours sleep and spent most of it tossing and turning, kneeing the poor guy in front of me in the back and elbowing kate, one of my mates in the side.. with no pillow (my theory was travel light and use my clothes for a pillow - big mistake, tip number 1, always, always bring a pillow with u no matter how cumbersome.)

We stopped for breakfast, and it was then my trusty phrase book came in handly, i profeciently ordered my breakfast while the rest of hte group just stared onwards, i could see their brains going... shit shit shit.. no one at hte restaurant spoke a word of english.. so i became a translator of sorts, all beit a bad one, i could barely order, say hello and goodbye, say numbers and ask for directions, that was it that was all..

after proving my skills there I was ready to journey onwards, as we descended through the mountains we were surrounded by fog and rain, our campsite rang and reported a sunny day, apparently we were only 20 mins away. Either they were bullshitting us, or the weather in spain was as tempermental as moody diabetic addicted to chocolate..

turns out it was the later. as we went down the mountainside into the valley, the fog lifted, the sun appeared and it began to reveal the true beauty of the scene below. My first immediate thought was italy. It looks just like italian countryside, the buildings, the colours the landscape it was just so italy.. i knew i would love it.

We wound our way through the charming Estella village where we were based and got to our campsite, tents and beds already blown up, we dumped our stuff, had some lunch then got ready to head into pamplona to have our own personal tour of the bull run.

I was excited, i get tooing and frowing between deciding to run with the bulls, so many people had said you have to give it a go, which i really wanted to but I had also heard so many horror stories i was in two minds.

But in the next four days to come I would experience so much that even now, four days after I am back, I am still reeling from it and still absorbing it all. So for that reason I am putting my observations under some quick headings to make it easier for you guys to read and jump to the most exciting parts.

Pamplona and the Festival

Pamplona itself is nestled on the crest of a rising mountain, the city centre, containing the bull run, is at the top of a formerly fortified hill. There is a massive manicured gardens and park right next to the town centre which is home to a family of dear, ducks, chickens and goats... there is also a breathtaking view of the city from the fortified wall arch which frames the entrance to the heart of pamplona and to the heart of all the action.

The town itself wasnt entirely beautiful but it was charming. It had all day and night markets, food stalls with tapas and freshly made sandwhiches and paella, there was also street entertainers galore, balloons for sale and the most of hte locals were friendly. Walking into Pamplona, our tour group, top deck, had stuffed up our drop off location so we had to walk at least 15min up this killer hill every day to get into pamps which sucked a bit.

The city itself had narrow streets, crammed with balconies above and signs saying 'viva san fermin', bulls and the traditional scarves that come with the festival.There were several squares, the town square and the main square, which were the two areas where we spent the most amount of time in.

The city itself shut down from 2pm-5pm for siesta and most people just found a spot to sit on the side of the street, on a park bench or in the park and slept, it was amazing.. things just stopped but i could never properly embrace it there was always something else to see and do.

By the end of the opening ceremony we began to see a bit of an ugly side to pamplona, and unfortunately it was the tourists and some of the locals who were to blame for this. As in most european cities it is legal to drink on the street and have parties on the street. But we were all advised never where thongs or open toed shoes because u will get cut by broken glass. I thought this was rather extreme, but wore my runners just in case. Well it was worth it because when people had finished their drinks they just smashed them on the ground, people just littered and threw rubbish on the ground. I saw men just pissing on the side of walls in the middle of crowds and i also saw excretement, which was not dog looking on the streets as well... so after the first day, during such a massive festival the streets smelt and the cleaners would hose out the streets every day, mind u i think it would take weeks to get the smell of tourists and sangria out of that city.

During the festival it is important for everyone to where red and white, white pants and shirt, red sash around the waist and red scarf, which is first worn around hte wrist then put around the neck and must stay there the entire time. Its bad luck for runners to take it off before the end of the festival. we all bought white clothes when we got there from the markets and our red stuff as well, it was rather cheap and fun to bargain with the stall holders over.

The opening Ceremony

The opening ceremony will always be a highlight for me. At first i was hestitant, i was determined to take my digital slr with me and was terrified of it getting wet or damaged, so wrapped in plastic several times over in my back pack which was also covered in a plastic bag I felt I was rather safe. I felt it was rather clever until someone pointed out the plastic around my back pack made it look like it was covered in a condom.. lovely..

meanwhile the opening ceremony kicks off at midday in the townsquare, they let off one cannon,then another..that signals the waving of the scarf and chanting then it placed around your neck where it must remain for the festival then the fun begins. It is tradition to throw sangria at everyone and champagne, mind u i didnt see many locals doing it , they stayed rather clean, just tourists. and while i wasnt sure i would be keen to be covered in sangria my god it was fun. I bought a bottle and a bottle of champagne and sprayed it over kate, paul, alicia, adam, georgie, rick and emma. .. i got covered, my whites soon turned purple, and i felt sticky and stank.. but it was like being back in kindergarten and jumping into a big brown wet puddle. Feeling that water sneak into your shoes and your feet getting all squishy. man it was fun, so much so i went and bought another two bottles.. it was so cheap you just couldnt help yourself. I noticed a young local boy still all white, everyone dared me, go on, throw it at him. So i did then he got pissed and i tunred back around only to be completely saturated in sangria, he had a 6lt container of sangria i had neglected to see and half of it ended up over my head.. so funny..

so after much throwing of sangria, we were done. Some people went further, there was shaving cream which was thrown about, eggs, flour, mustard and even ketchup, we were lucky to be just splashed with sangria.. We then went up to where teh statue is. The famous one, where drunken idiots jump off into the crowd below hoping to be catched by other drunk idiots. more people are injured and die from this then the actual bull run. So while on the way there we had to escape the locals who were throwing buckets of water from their balconies to cool down the crowd.. it was funny, but i preferred to stay covered in sangria then risk whatever might have been in the water. We got to the statue and honestly u have to see it to believe it. These idiots climbing a 10 m high statue and then launching off into the crowd, no one was hurt while we were there, but one irish guy died the next day when he hit his head in his fall.. and another broke his leg.. it was just plain stupidity, i didnt get any shots of this, the crowd was crazy and wasnt safe enough to get my camera out, people were still throwing sangria and going mental, as well as being general drunken idiots..

The bull run

For the first day of the bull run, we decided to try and view it from inside the stadium, so we could see the bulls come in and also see all the action, as the crowds were so crazy it was near impossible to get a good view of the run from anywhere else.

Because most tickets are sold by scalpers, we had to schlep around trying to find someone, they cant actually call out tickets, tickets, because thats illegal but they can sell them. strange i know, but thats spain for u.

so anyway we found one guy, bargained him down to 7 euros, which was rather good, because most people we spoke to ended up paying between 10-20 euros..

and we went inside, some of the girl's husbands were running so they were nervous to see if they made it into the arena.. surprisingly people started to filter through before the cannons went off to signal the bulls were released from their cages and were on the street. one guy ran in and was booed and booed continously, he had bottles and cans thrown at him, til he ran and hid in a barrior.. theres nothing worse than being a coward in a spaniards eyes.

People began flowing in, falling, scrambling and dashing to the side. There was a sense of urgency in their faces and thats how we knew. The bulls were coming. They charged through and then suddenly one became confused, instead of just running straight to the other side to the exit, it circled then rammed a side of the stadium, pinning with it a poor guy who was speared in the stomach, he was in absolute agony, u can see it in the pictures I will put up. The crowd was screaming in excitement, theres nothing they love more then seeing blood. It was like being in the colleseum.

Then once all the bulls filtered through we saw the boys, there was relief all round, til we noticed they planned on staying in the ring until it was finished. Once the big bulls have run through, they release five baby bulls, one at a time with corked horns, (supposedly so they cant hurt anyone but they still do) which run around full of spirit, ramming and throwing people around. So the boys stayed in for that until it was all finished.

After talking to them all, and discussing tactics i decided it would be foolish NOT to do it. I was in spain, i was at hte festival, I would never do it again. time to grab life by the horns so to speak. So paul, the husband of one of our friends, promised hed go with me, not hold my hand so to speak, but as hed run the day before, he would help make me feel better.

So along came day two. crunch time. d day if you will. I was dressed in my whites, allbeit them stained purple with sangria and i was ready. We got down to the town square and squeezed into the gates, and i tucked my hair under a cap. mainly to avoid police scrutiny, they dont like girls running and will often pull them out. as well as drunks and idiots taking photos. So i kept my head down adn internally panicked my guts out. The area was so packed i couldnt even raise my hand to wipe away the sweat that was beading on my brow. I started to freak out, what if there was a stampede and i was trampled then a bulls horn suddenly rammed right up my backside? not so unrealistic as I had seen it happen many a time at the festival on just the first day.. argh.. i was freaking out but by no means was i ready to back out..

I was worried but nerves didnt really kick in until the first cannon went off and paul leant over and said faintly, that means the bulls have been released.. so with all the constraint i could muster we started walking, we walked past dead mans corner, witha sigh of relief, then there was a second cannon, paul shouted, they are now in the street.. what now.. i looked behind and i heard them before i saw them, i could feel the street vibrating. the hooves were clattering on the stone paved streets, it was generating echoes of fear inside me. I turned and could hear 'toro' 'toro' being shouted.. it was then paul adn i decided to go to the side of the street, and stand by a shop front. not out of harms way by any means but not in hte middle of hte street, in a matter of minutes the bulls where there, less than two arm lengths away from me.. and they rushed by.. the guy next to me was shaking like a feather i was afraid he would

a) faint

or b) throw me in front of an oncoming bull, so we waited a while, then decided to start running to get into the stadium. we made it in and not long behind us was a big black bull which ran into the stadium and exited just as swiftly.. I made it, i did it, ran with the bulls and survived. I cant begin to explain the rush of adrenaline i felt, i felt so proud of myself, i had done the unthinkable, yes it was foolish but man, what a day..

the biggest thign that dissapointed me tho was the behavious of some of the australians. we were explicitly told, do not touch the bulls. they are considered sacred creatures and to touch them is disrespectful. but so many people did that and more, many taunted hte bulls, pulled their tails and ears and hit them, threw shoes at them adn then u see the footage of them getting gored. it really isnt all that dangerous if u are responsible and dont go crazy and put urself in harms way, its the idiots who ruin it for hte rest. on the day before i ran there was a massive fight between a spanish group and australians because one guy had tackled a bull side on and tried to wrestle it.. stupid .. just plain stupid.

on the last day we were very lucky, the tour group got us balconies to view the bull run from. It cost tho, 5o euros later i was sitting at a balcony in a locals house viewing dead mans corner and all the panicked runners below, it was really exciting and ull see in the pictures the view i had.

The bull fight

As part of the spainish experience i decided i shoudl go view a bull fight. I didnt agree with it, but at the same time. How do you know not agree with something unless you have seen it with your own eyes and can speak from experience. Plus it is their tradition. So with that in mind and a decision to keep my stomach intact i managed to wrangle some tickets for the last nite we were there. They are even harder to get then the bull run tix, locals only get them, only 10% of the actual tickets are sold from the ticket booth but we were lucky..

So in we went and somehow i had forgotten the tips of the festival goers, where white to the bullfight if you are on the sun side because its just like the opening ceremony, sangria and champagne throwing. funny that, we were all wearing jeans and nice clothes. We got there and went shit. luckily i had my white clothes from the morning run and got soaked but at least ended up with unstained jeans unlike some of the guys i was with.

But i have to say if you ever get a chance to go to a fight, never ever ever, go on the sun side, it gets violent, the fruit and alcohol is pegged at u, not just thrown, it hurts and its not nice. One guy was spraying what smelt like sewerage water at people and i got some of it on me, it made me gag and dry retch.

I managed to last three kills. then i couldnt take anymore, it was just too upsetting, the bull was speared twice with two big spears then had heaps of mini spears thrown at it until it bled out. and then it was stabbed in the brain. it was just digusting.. i couldnt handle watching hte bull which had no comprehension it was about to be cruelly and inhumanely killed. it was just so barbaric but what chilled me to the core was the crowd. they were blood thirsty and went crazy when the bull finally died and was dragged out of the stadium, to be chopped up and ccooked to be served as dinner that night. It was reminiscent of what it must have been like centuries ago during the collesseum, it was just so raw, barbaric and downright disturbing.

I ran outside and quickly lost my dinner. I couldnt stomach watching anymore, it was just too much. I desperately wanted to see a bull gore someone, anyone just for the bull to have some kind of reverevent.. because no one, no animal deserves to die like that.

San Sebastian

As one of our day trips, we went to san sebastian and my goodness it was gorgeous, the city, the buildings, the beach, the people were just so very charming. it was idlyic, i had the best tapas i had in my life there, i had a gianormous gelati, and strolled the streets without a care in the world. I went crazy talking photos of locals and kids at hte beach, they just had so much character and personality. I will put these up soon as well.

It was a gorgeous day and i just wanted to bliss out, so i crashed on the grass in a park with kate while waiting for our bus, then the street police came by and i got told off. No sleeping or stepping on the grass. how funny, they are so funny about that over here, and definitely no walking around barefoot. but its ok to sleep on the street as long as u have a sleeping bag, but of course, tents arent allowed. man it cracked me up, the hypocrisy of it and just downright strangeness.

The Food

U would think , that Spanish food would be delicious. But I have to say I wasn’t the biggest fan. It consists mainly of little tapas style meals, which on the whole are mainly breads with proscuito or sundried vegetables and cheeses on them, tortillas and more bread. I was one of the unfortunate ones to get food poisoning of sort on the trip . The minute I bit into the proscuito sandwhich I thought, hmm this tastes a bit off but decided to finish it anyway. I paid for it later, much later and still have a bit of a upset tummy now.

But yeah the food was ok, but a highlight was churos. They have them back in aus but traditional ones in spain are ten times better and they have liquid chocolate to dip them in! unbelievably tasty and so delish. Another favourite of mine was the bakeries, they had such beautiful sweets, and treats and little biscuits, they were freshly made and so inventive, I was very impressed and we had one at least every day which was burnt off due to our mammoth walking we would do every day.

I had one of the best meals of my trip in estella, in a little restaurant called scorpio, it was a salad with lamb rack and patatas.. It was just unreal, anyone travelling to estella in northern spain, go to the main square and go there it was unbelievable food, just delish and the service was wonderful the owner was so delighted to have tourists in there we were treated like members of their family.

But all in all I craved English food, a good pub meal, with veges and gravy at the end of the day…

Overall

Overall it was a very unusual experience. It was a bit of an awakening and a bit of everything really. This trip was sort of randomly planned and I had wanted to go but it got planned all rather quickly. But things started happening during my trip that made me realise I am in the right place right now and there is nowhere else I could be. In france when we stopped for dinner, I got 6.16 change.. Then at the next place I got 16.66. ..then when we got to the tent site, it was number 25 of its street… when we went to go in to watch the bull run from the balcony, the building was number 16 and they gave me a coffee with a cup with the number 25 on it.. The ticket I got to the opening day and to the bull fight, were tickets 1125 and 2216..

It was all just too much of a conicidence, all who know me, know I am superstitious, the numbers 16 and 25 are very lucky for me and good things seem to happen on these numbers, just look at my story ‘one lucky lucky day’ lots of things happen around these dates and it just seemed to resonate with me, that while its hard, while im missing home and mick and everyone like crazy, I am where im meant to be, things happen for a reason and I got all the signs in spain that despite feeling like some days im not sure im strong enough to do this on my own, I know I can.

At spain it wasn’t so much the destination, the festival or even the people, it was about what happened to me there, I suddenly became a traveller, I was opening myself to another culture and in turn started to get to know myself and my capabilities even better. I can sleep anywhere I set my mind to, if I have no soap I can improvise, I don’t need to wash every day to get clean.. And no matter what I don’t want to leave home again without a pillow and without antibacterial gel.

I guess in the end id like to end this with a viva san fermin, this is something everyone should do once. It was an unbelievable experience, one which I will always cherish..and think back fondly on, the holiday in which I went to spain and for 7 days, saw the world through Spanish eyes.

Meeting Jack

wandering_jess — Thu, 3 Jul 2008 21:59:00 GMT

well I finally got to meet jack. Or at least meet the area in which he once lived and learn how and perhaps why just under a century and a half ago he literally 'ripped' London apart.

I had booked ot join the 'authentic' jack the ripper tour a couple of weeks ago but due to numerous reasons I had to keep recheduling, but finally on tuesday night, I got to see first hand just what this character was a about and why whitechapel is still a haunting place to visit. I arrived with an hour and a half to kill, so i meandered the streets, its harded to explain the vibe of the place. Its like walking on a high wire, with two extremes on either side of you. On one side of the street is slums, derelict buildings, graffiti, street kids and dirty rubbish and homeless people with piles of rags and rubbish nestled next to them, and on the other side of the street, is the ultra trendy who are leaning outside bars and trying to look cool without trying. White Chapel is the curry end of town, the streets are awash with indians, morrocans, portugese and italians in some parts. Lebanese kebab shops adorn most corners and dingy dining places are alive with an array of spices and herbs that make your eyes tingle. I was looking for a quiet place to read my book whiel i waited and perhaps ahve a pub meal. No such thing in White Chapel. there are a few pubs, but the indian places far outweigh the pubs which normally dominate london's streets.

I come along to a little dot of a place called Toto's..an italian restaurant.. simply because i love the name and it has special meaning to me, I decide to step inside. There is an italian family by the register, they run the place and immediately assume I'm Italian and start pratelling away at me. I explain I'm from Australia and they dont believe me, apparently I have italian eyes and my body is very italy one of the brothers says. So i order with delight in italian, pretending for the next half an hour that I could perhaps be Italian deep down hehe. I order a marghertia pizza and a diet soft drink. The pizza arrives and it is massive and with just one bite, I'm transported back to italy, in rome when I had a margherita in Piazza Navona. It is the same and same alike. This family make only traditional italian and its gorgeous food. I relish each bite and suffer from reprimands when I struggle to finish the pizza. Then read my book with them curiously watching me.

I then go to pay and they tell me, no you dont have to pay, u enjoyed it so much it was our payment. I am just infitely touched and swear I', coming back to this place again. I just couldnt get over it and offered to pay again and they then start to look offended so I accept their sweet and lovely gesture. Their pizzas are only 5pound each anyway which is very cheap for over here and they made me feel so welcome, so i decide I am definitely bringing some of the girls here for a bite to each another time soon, if not I'll just come back on my own..

So will a full belly, a warmed heart and a smile on my face I trundle back to the station to meet the tour group. I notice members of hte tour immediately, straggley groups of one or two or three people worriedly checking watches and looking about. a coupel of loud americans confirm it for me and finally a man dressed in all black witha quick effecient manner arrives. I get my name written and ticked off and we are underway. We stop for an introduction just on the main street of Whitechapel and I strugggle to get in the mood for it. The cars are homking and beeping and everyone is rushing about. Is this really the place where Jack the Ripper once stalked and drove the fear into many a londoners heart?

We make our way over to the White Hart pub, where one of the victims used to live and which is also famously known as the 'jack the ripper' pub. And its then the adventure beginis, the cobbled stone archway hides an old wooden door and in the middle of a story, it creaks open and im not the only one in the group to jump. the mood has been set. its time to meet jack.

The tour guide is brusque and slighly imaptient, he has animaginative face and a passionate story telling voice. It transports you back and you can't help but imagiien what things hmust have been like back then. as he spins his brilliantly told history of the lives of the women who were tragically murdered, we see buildings fromt eh era, an original streetlamp where a wtiness saw jacks face and also teh copy of the original letter written and sent to the local newspaper.

Being a journalist I know a beat up story when I see one, and my theory is the journo wrote it to sell more papers which is quite a popular theory, in one part in the letter it reads ' I am down on whores and I wont' stop slashing them til I'm caught' a chilling phrase but also one that a journalist would love to work into a headline.. hmm I am unconvinced thats its written by his hand at this point...

As the light darkens, it is still light here at 9pm, so it wasnt completely dark but the dark allies do emit that sense of slummy atmosphere that is synomous with the time. We are shown pictures of the victims, their injuries and etc.. it is quite graphic and while i dont particuarly want to have these images saved into my memory, I am here for the experience so I take a quick peak.

However its not all ghost stories and scary stuff.. the tour guide who was in the middle of telling us where one woman was the night she was murdered and what happened right before she was never seen again, when a car full of teen lebanese boys zoomed down the street in their souped up subaru and did a ali g moment of bouncing the car.. and then reved away..complete with screeching tyres and smoke... 'yeah yeah jack the rippers the man'. one of the them yelled out...

the tour guide looks exasperated and mutters 'hooligans' to himself, i giggle at the reference lol.. I cant remember the last time someone said ' those dammn hooligans' unless it is of course alf from home and away hehehe. i almost said ' well stone the crows' but somehow I didnt think he'd appreciate my contribution.

and of course the loud americans dawdled, they spoke on their cell phones and were the last to eachs top for the story but the tour guide, while visibly annoyed kept his patience. I nattered away to him for a bit, asking his theories on this and that, he has done several documentary films on the mystery behind jack and its all rather interesting.

We finally come to the last stop and its there that he reaches a conclusive point, directly pointing the finger towards one particular theory.

his theory is that some of the witnesses which saw two of the vitcims with a man before they were murdered, were all jewish and none wanted to make a comment on the record for fear of incriminating one of their own. So his theory is that it was a member of the jewish commnunity who was a barber ( they doubeld as surgeons back then) and they caught the man, but due to unwilingness for witesses to testify they instead sent him to an asslyum where he was imprisoned until he died. Hence hte reason why there were no more kilings after the final one.

The last murder was very graphic and very full on. Jack had pretty much disfigured her entirely and I cant see how any murderer would stop once hed reached that point. I wasn't quite satisfied with that explanation. It didnt rule out why there were spottings of a man with a top hat and coat, the grapes found near the women, the rumours of gentry or a member of the gentry being invovled and I would like to know why, a member of the jewish community, who would have no doubt sisters and members of his family being proststitutes, have just a violent anger towards them, it would seem more likely a memebr of the gentry would have that feeling..additionally jack took out parts of the body without affecting other organs which seems far too professional for someone who is a barber /rough surgeon, on one woman he had taken out the womb, the liver, kidneys, all without disturbing other parts, and also the intenstines.. all rather disgusting but intriguing.

call me morbid but its a compelling story.

hence why the story is always creating debate, ont he night I went there were five other tours doing the rounds which was a huge amount but at the end, we had no further answers, just more questions.

What I do know was I saw a seedier side of london, was given great insight into how things were back then and trod the cobblestones where fear itself once gripped the hearts of many women in old white chapel...

til next time guys when i fill u all in on the fun and frivolty of pamplona, running of the bulls!.. ill be out of touch for 7 days and back on deck in the following weekend or week so be patient with emails.

cya

jess

Gallery: Ascot

wandering_jess — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 06:00:00 GMT

Ascot Adventure

wandering_jess — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 05:47:00 GMT

Ascot. the word brings to mind royalty, horses, fashion and fascinators.. well I have to say I saw all that and more and perhaps a little bit more into the seedy world of the racing wonderland that I wanted to see...

Prepared with my polka dot dress, black fasinator, heels and matching bag and pashmina, and one of my closest mates over here, I began the trek up the hill to Ascot.

When the hill gradually lessened, bringing to view, I saw the flag, Royal Ascot and I felt a flicker inside, my stomach did a flip flop. And then I heard a english girl behind me go, 'fuuck, i hope I see prince william today, ' and it kind of summed out the style of some of the girls there.. in a word, one of my favourite words, a skank and I have always been one to call it as I see it..and there were a few..

There were jordan look a likes, there were orange girls- desperately tanning with self tans that have made themselves go orange in the process, girls with dresses a quarter of the size of mine, in fact I was one of the only girls there to have a dress that went just below my knees... but in sayng that, it made hte day more fun..

So many characters, so many old dears placing a bet and kicking up their heels, and so many young guys dressed up.. in fact during the day i saw

- a team of jockeys ( not the real deal, but talking to girls later, i saw that severeal of them managed to convince the girls that they were in actual fact jockeys towards the ends of hte night),

- a group of guys dressed as scotsmen

-a group of men dressed as fosters beer bottles

- men dressed in dresses.. utterly hilarious, complete with fascinator or hats..

- lots of cougars - women above their 40's trying to dress like 20 year olds...

- and posisbly the funniest ones, was a gorup of kiwis, who decided it was their goal at the day to crash tackle every wheelie bin they saw.. my goodness it was hilarious, they called it wheelie bin rugby...

So yes, it was an interesting day, I couldnt resist on betting on a horse called Tudor Key, for obvious reasons and unfortunately it stayed true to its 40 to one odds, and came last.. and i also bet on a horse called young mick. which came third.. so i recouped my losses. but perhaps the most exciting thing was people just threw their money around, i found a 5 pound note on the ground, 2 pound coin, several pound coins.. I turned into the money scavenger during hte day lol..

The queen put in an appearance and waved to everyone, and we descend into what i nicknamed the 'groove tent', a live band was belting out every tune possible, including some awesome queen tunes, such as 'we are the champions' ‘boheniam rapsody’, ‘we will rock you’ that just made everyone erupt into a sea of dancing.. then some of the drunk ones got the wonderful idea to pick up one of their mates and put them on their head to dance, all of a sudden there is a sea of people grooving on peoples heads and then the people holding them, move them together and I actually saw a girl and guy getting on ontop of their friends heads.. it was utterly priceless.

for reasons unbeknown to me, everyone opened their umbrellas, and started dancing with their umbrellas in the air, i have never seen anything like it, it was so bizzare... but such a fun atmosphere, but my goodness when the english get drunk they get beyond drunk, they get completely and utterly legless.. the amount of girls who were barely able to stand was just shocking.. ive been to races back home, but this was just incredible and very very sad.. I kept on the water, had a cider or two and enjoyed myself, but my goodness they were a mess... the amount of girls dancing with their boobs out, flashing their undies and being downright disgraceful was overwhelming...

the crowded trains and the wait for teh train was the definite low light but the highlights definitely outweighed the low lights..

But to put it in comparison for those back home.. with the doomben or eagle farm here are some points of observations about ascot..

- u can bring ur own alcohol and food and have a picnic there..

- there are more than enough toilets, hardly ever a wait and they are regularly serviced.. very nice toilets with lovely lighting.. u actually dont look as shit as u feel.

- there was no line up for food, there was every type of food imaginable and so much of there was enough for everyone.

-my tip is - get there early and leave late, that way u avoid the most of the crowd.

-other than the presence of the queen, the actual races werent that different to races back home but there was more grassy areas and the entertainment made the day, the live band rocked it.

on the way home some drunk idiot started mouthing off about australians to one girl, picking on her and suddenly realised that 3 quarters of the train were actually australian and he shut up quick. The loser had insinuated that Australians are the most racist race in the world which made many of our blood boils. We were extremely annoyed, u find when u leave ur country, ur patriotism just magnifies so much. I have never been more proud to be australian than living overe here...it makes me appreciate everything that is great about being in australia and to call myself australian.

I loved ascot, but in saying that I think I am happy with experiencing once and thats it.

I must admit the saddest part about the races was on the way back to the train we noticed a whole group of british girls laughing and crying with laughter, and there was this bus blocking the view.. and suddenly the bus moved.. revealling three women in their fifties, with their panties around their ankles peeing in the gutter on the side of a busy road.. it was just so sad, and everyone, was laughing.. I didnt actually find it that funny.

the races and the alochol seemed to bring out the ugly side of british culture but at the same time, the best in the south africans, australians and kiwis that were there. There were some absolutely stunning dresses, but unfortunately i dont have any pics to put up, i didnt want to risk taking ym camera there, just simply to risky.. so i will put up some pics from a mate as soon as i get them.

anyways all in all, the moral of the story is asoct was one hell of an adventure.. and im looking forward to my next one.. PAMPLONA, with running of the bulls in july..

xx jess